The Last Homely House
by Morwen Tindomerel
Summary: Growing up in Rivendell is an adventure, for Lord Elrond too! Unfinished.
1. Being Naughty

The stables at Rivendell were caves. Well, half caves really because they were open in front except for a screen of slender pillars. There were no stalls and certainly no ropes. The horses stood on an earthen floor covered by a thick layer of straw mixed with clover and sweet grasses, each feeding from his own manger and drinking from the fountain gurgling at the back. The lofts above were very cavelike with their low vaulted ceiling of rough stone and it was here the children had taken refuge, making themselves nests out of the straw and pretending to be the outlaw band of Barahir hiding from the Orcs. In fact they were hiding from their mothers. And their uncle. And most especially from Grandmother!

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time: They'd climbed the northeast wall of the valley and rested on a shelf next to one of the innumerable waterfalls, very hot as well as dirty, so when Berya suggested they make a pool to bathe in they'd all agreed - even Estel and Amin who weren't usually very interested in getting clean. They built a dam out of loose rocks and clay, getting very wet and muddy in the process, but instead of pooling the water had found another channel and gone plunging down right into the gardens far below. Of course they'd torn the dam down as quickly as they could but the damage was done. They meant to confess all and take their punishment, (as if Uncle wouldn't know who was to blame without being told!) but, as Hallam pointed out, there wasn't any hurry about it. Why ruin the entire day? Especially as it was likely to be their last day of freedom for some little time.

Meleth thought it very unfair they should be punished for what was, after all, a simple mistake. In the interests of justice she suggested they do something naughty on purpose. As they were already quite high up the choice was obvious. They climbed right out of the valley and spent the rest of the day on the fells. They caught fish with their hands in a mountain stream and cooked them over a fire to eat with the bread and fruit they'd brought from home. They picked flowers in a bog, getting thoroughly mired in the process. And finally built a fort out of crumbly stone which Hallam and Berya held very successfully against the younger three. All in all it had been a very satisfactory kind of day.

At sunset they climbed down into the valley and stole back to the House, pretending to be Luthien and Beren in Angband, before settling in the stable loft to fortify themselves from the store of sweets they kept there against the unpleasantness to come. Now that the hour of doom was nigh at hand their philosophical resignation was beginning to desert them.

"I wish we'd gone straight back after the business with the waterfall." Berya fretted. "It'd be over now."

"And we'd have lost the whole day." Hallam pointed out, yet again.

"It'll be bread and water and double translations for weeks." Estel said gloomily.

"A few days at most." Berya corrected. "You know the Elves will start sneaking us things to eat if it goes on any longer."

"I'll cry." Meleth offered. "Maybe that will help."

Estel shook his head. "Tears work on Elves, and maybe a little on Uncle - but not Grandmother!"

"No indeed." Hallam agreed. "Remember what she said the last time about being a naughty little girl herself and knowing all the tricks."

"I tried to get her to tell me what she had done," Meleth admitted, "but she told me she wasn't about to give us any more ideas!"

"Hist!" Amin said suddenly. "Ware, Orcs approach!"

At first they thought he was just trying to change the subject but then the rest of them heard the jingle of harness and deep grumbling voices from below. Wriggling to the edge of the loft floor they looked over. The first thing they saw was a large blue pointy hat - Gandalf!

Meleth gave a very small gasp of delight and the wizard looked up, directly at them, blue eyes twinkling. Then one of his companions said something and he looked down again to answer. They were Dwarves, more than a dozen of them, each leading a tired pony. This was fairly astonishing in itself as Dwarves and Elves don't get on as a rule and aren't in the habit of exchanging visits. But even more remarkably one of the guests, at the far end where the children couldn't get a good look, was shorter than the others and beardless, a child perhaps?

Long ago the Rangers had sheltered the refugees from Khazad-dum and helped them on their way to permanent haven with their kin in the Blue Mountains so the children knew Dwarves didn't 'grow from stone' and that their women and children didn't have beards as some ignorant Men said. Other children were always exciting, as they saw so few, and a Dwarf child would be trebly so for nobody ever saw them!

The Dwarves' voices were so deep and rumbly t difficult to make out what they were saying but mostly it was about dinner and sleeping dry and something about Trolls. They were obviously in a great hurry for they got the harness off their ponies in record time with only the sketchiest of rubdowns before trooping off with Gandalf.

The children promptly climbed down to get acquainted with the newcomers and were busily currying them when three of the stable Elves arrived with buckets of oats and mash. Then it was all up of course.

They were marched straight away to the nursery to be greeted with cries of dismay by their nannies, Nuneth and Iorwen, and assorted Elven attendants. "Good heavens but you're filthy!" Nuneth exclaimed taking Estel by the shoulders as if she meant to shake him.

"We washed before we came in." he said defensively.

Her answering look of open skepticism was not unjustified. The quick dip in a river pool had indeed removed most, if not all, of the mud and mire but it had also left them decidedly damp when they crawled into the stable loft. Now they were stuck all over with hayseeds and bits of straw and the girl's hair looked like bird's nests and the boy's hung in strings - not to mention the sticky mouths and hands.

Grown-ups tend to be over particular, Elven gown-ups especially so, but even the children could see they had a point this time. There was no help for it, off they went to the baths each with an Elf or two to see they remembered to use soap and to comb the tangles out of their hair. When the children finally met back in the day nursery they had been tubbed and scrubbed until they shone and dressed in their best which could only mean they were to be presented to the guests, a very unusual treat indeed.

Meleth, who at eight was the youngest, was very pretty even at her most unkempt with dark brown curls that had a coppery sheen in sunlight, huge grey eyes and a fetching sprinkle of little gilt freckles across her nose. With clean face and yellow gown, combed hair held back by a fillet of thin gold with a tiny gilt star on her brow she looked like the little princess she was.

Berya was not pretty and inclined to resent the fact. At fourteen she was long limbed and gawky with enormous hands and feet and nose and cheekbones too large for her thin pointed face. Glossy black hair that had never been cut and a pair of eyes grey as clear water under a twilight sky were small consolation. Bad enough to be a princess without a kingdom she would say, but a plain princess at that! and her mother and grandmother would smile at each other over her head as if they knew something she didn't. Still she was looking reasonably presentable in pale green with little, chiming silver bells and river pearls braided into her hip length hair.

Hallam was fourteen too, and every bit as lanky and unfinished looking - not that it mattered so much in a boy - with golden brown hair and an intense grey stare. Estel and Amin, at ten and nine respectively, were still at the pretty stage; both dark haired but Amin's eyes were a true, deep blue while Estel's changed depending on his mood. At the moment they were grey reflecting equal parts annoyance and apprehension. All three boys were dressed in shades of grey worked with gold and silver thread.

The children sat down to the supper laid out on the large table but ate very little being rather full of comfits, pastries and cakes. The Elves serving pretended not to notice as they squirreled away meat and fruit against the dearth to come. It was Glorfindel himself, Lord Elrond's herald, who came to fetch them. A familiar mithril casket in his hands.

"The Elendilmir!" Amin blurted, astonished, and Hallam and Berya exchanged startled glances as Glorfindel lifted the jewel from its casket.

It was a large Elf crystal, glinting like a star with its own light and attached to a collar of mithril and adamant. Long ago it had been worn as a crown by the High Kings of Old and the Chieftains still wore it from time to time on especially grand occasions. If Uncle had sent it to Estel the guests must be much more important than the children had thought.


	2. Royal Duties

Glorfindel led the five children through lacy covered galleries, up flights of stone steps and across a terrace paved with colored marbles not to the great hall itself but to the withdrawing room behind it. Uncle was there, of course, in his high backed chair. And Grandmother and Aunt Ellian and Aunt Gilraen too.

No question but it was a first class occasion; Grandmother was wearing the Nauglamir, a magnificent golden necklace set with jewels of adamant, opal and beryl made long ago by the Dwarves of Nogrod for Finrod Felagund, with a star upon her brow. Aunt Gilraen had put aside her usual mourning for a sea blue gown and pearls. And Aunt Ellian was in leaf green with carcenet and bracelets of mithril and beryl.

Glorfindel's own wife, the Lady Lorellos, was pouring wine for three Dwarves, uncomfortably perched on chairs to big for them holding their crystal goblets gingerly and looking as if they'd very much prefer something a bit stronger, and for Gandalf who gave the children a friendly wink. Not entirely unaccustomed to such occasions the five of them automatically fell into their proper order: Estel alone in front with the two girls immediately behind him and Hallam and Amin bringing up the rear.

"My Lord Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, rightful King Under the Mountain," Uncle intoned formally, "this is the Heir of Isildur; Aragorn son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dunedain."

Estel stared. The famous Thorin Oakenshield himself? then remembered to bow. "Hail Thorin son of Thrain, Heir of Durin, King of the Dwarves."

Thorin slid off his chair to return the bow. "Well met, Aragorn Lord of the Dunedain, Friend to the Dwarves."

Uncle looked austerely pleased and Estel knew he'd acquitted himself well - so far. Elrond presented the others: "Region daughter of Argaladh, Lady of Carnarthon." Meleth bobbed a quick curtsey. "Beruthiel daughter of Belegorn," this was Berya, "and Halladan and Barahir, sons of Halbarad." which were Hallam and Amin's proper names.

Thorin bowed gravely to each in turn. Chairs were brought for the children and Estel tried to think of something to say. Making conversation with strange grown-ups is never easy, especially when one is expected to act like a prince instead of a small boy. It would be rude to ask why Thorin was here or about the Dwarf child. Estel settled for hoping all was well back in the Blue Mountains.

It was. Thorin responded with the usual questions about lessons and after a few minutes of politely stilted conversation pleaded the fatigue of a long and difficult journey and bowed himself and his two companions out of the room. Glorfindel left with them but Gandalf remained in his chair sipping his wine and eyeing the children consideringly. Oddly the Lady Lorellos stayed too. Uncle assumed a sterner mein, regarding his fosterlings with something less than his usual affection. The children quickly got to their feet forming a chastened row in front of his chair as their mothers left their seats to stand behind them.

"A curious thing happened this afternoon." Uncle began. "Somehow one of the waterfalls was diverted into the garden. Would you know anything about this?"

Berya blushed. "Yes, sir. It was my idea. We'd been climbing you see and I thought we might make a pool to cool off in. But the water didn't pool, it just found another spot to go over the ledge."

Gandalf made himself very busy filling his pipe but did not quite succeed in hiding a suspicious upcurl to the corners of his mouth. Grandmother didn't even try to disguise her amusement and Elrond's frown relaxed slightly.

"We didn't do it on purpose." Hallam chimed in from his end of the row.

"Of course not." said Lady Lorellos quickly and warmly. "Elrond -"

Uncle silenced her with a look before returning his attention to the children. "I am sure you did not. However the water came down right on top of the Ivonwin's Cornfield."

"Oh no!" Berya's eyes flashed in alarm to from Uncle to Lady Lorellos. "Was the Corn ruined?"

"I fear so." The Lady admitted. Berya, Estel and Meleth all looked suitably appalled, Hallam and Amin merely puzzled. They had only been at Rivendell a year but the other three had lived there practically their whole lives and knew as much about Elven ways as if they were Eldar themselves.

The sacred Corn for making 'life bread' or Lembas had been a gift from Yavanna herself to the Fathers of the Elves to sustain them on the journey to Aman. It was grown in small plots tended by the Ivonwini, Handmaidens of Yavanna, under the direction of the Mistress of the Household. As Lady Celebrian had gone oversea and Lady Arwen was away in Lorien that duty had fallen to Lorellos, who was not only Glorfindel's wife but a near kinswoman to Elrond. Ruining an entire crop of the Corn was practically blasphemous.

"We didn't know!" Meleth said earnestly. "If we had we'd have come right back instead of climbing out of the Valley."

Suddenly all the grown-ups, even Gandalf, looked very serious indeed and Uncle's frown became much more intimidating. "You left the Valley?"

"That was my idea." Meleth explained. "Since we were going to be punished anyway I thought we should do something bad on purpose to deserve it."

Grandmother's lips twitched, as if that line of reasoning was not entirely unfamiliar to her, but managed to maintain a grave front.

"You are forbidden to leave the Valley unaccompanied." Uncle said sternly. "The High Fells are dangerous. Gandalf and King Thorin's company encountered three Stone Trolls not far from here."

"But this was in daylight." Hallam protested. "We came down well before sunset." "There are other dangers than Trolls and Orcs that are not stopped by sunlight." Uncle began, then hesitated as if uncertain how to continue. "

Aragorn." Estel looked apprehensively at his Grandmother. Calling him by his formal name was a bad sign. "You are Lord of the Dunedain." she continued gravely, "your life is not your own but belongs to your people. You betray them if you risk it without need." Estel swallowed hard, trying not to cry as Grandmother's stern eye moved past him to the others. "As for the rest of you, you are also of the Line of Isildur. Aragorn is not only your kinsman but your liege lord. It is your duty to guard and advise him, not to lead him into dangerous follies."

Berya wiped her eyes furtively with the corner of her sleeve. Hallam went red then very white. Meleth sniffled forlornly and Amin hung his head.

"We won't do it again." Estel promised earnestly.

--

NOTES:_ (Warning! Most of what appears below is Fanon, not Canon and/or AU!)_

1. Who Are These Women? 'Grandmother' is the Lady Ellemir, Widow of Arador and mother of Arathorn, 'Aunt Ellian' and a second son, Armegil. 'Aunt Gilraen' is Aragorn's mother who usually wears mourning for his father, (Dunedain mourning is deep grey) only putting it aside on very special occasions. The Lady Lorellos is both Elrond's niece by marriage, her mother being Celebrian's elder sister, and his first cousin through her father Elured, brother of Elwing.

2. Names: The Gondorians' silly legend that Aragorn was brought up incognito is probably based on a misunderstanding of the Northern Dunedain custom of 'child-names' usually given by the mother and used throughout childhood in place of the 'formal name'. Aragorn's child-name 'Estel', meaning Hope, refers to the prophecies surrounding his birth. Berya and Hallam's are clearly allusive to their formal names; Beruthiel and Halladan. Meleth means 'love' or 'beloved'. And Amin means faith. The Isildurioni and certain other ancient Numenorean families also give their children names in the 'high tongue' or Quenya which are almost never used. Aragorn rules the Reunited Kingdom under his Quenya name, Elessar.

3: Who Are These Children? Meleth, (aka Region) is a distant relative, descended from Aranarth's youngest brother. She is the last of her House and heiress to the Wardenship of the Red Hill Country, (Carnarthon). As she was little more than a year old when her parents' died she has been raised by Gilraen as Estel's sister. Berya, (Beruthiel) is Ellian's daughter. She has an elder brother, Belecthor, off learning to be a Ranger. Her father Belegorn was killed trying to rescue Arador from Stone Trolls. Ellian and her children then went to live with Arathorn and Gilraen and after Arathorn's death followed Gilraen and Aragorn to Rivendell. Hallam and Amin's father is the same Halbarad who will lead the Grey Company to Aragorn's aid during the WR. He is also of the Line of Isildur being a nephew of Arador. His three children, there is also a baby daughter, joined their cousins at Rivendell after the death of their mother last year.

4, The Corn of Yavanna: This is canonical. Its origins and the ritual of its planting and harvesting are described in 'Of Lembas' an essay in 'Peoples of Middle Earth'.


	3. Mr Bilbo Baggins

'Again she fled but swift he came./ Tinuviel! Tinuviel!/ He called her by her elvish name;/ And there she halted listening./ One moment stood she, and a spell/ His voice laid on her: Beren came/ And doom fell on Tinuviel/ That in his arms lay glistening.'

"Yeech!" Hallam and Amin looked up from their own work to stare at Estel in surprise. "They're kissing!" he complained. "Pages and pages and they haven't even left Doriath yet. At this rate I'm never going to get to the good part!"1

"What about me?" Hallam asked, "Seven verses and Turin's still moaning about his mother!" he glared at the pages on the table before him. "Why do heroes in song act like such fools?"

"They do don't they." Amin agreed. "I mean here's Isildur going around telling his mother, his father, his brother and anybody else who'll listen he's going to try to sneak into the palace and steal a seedling of the White Tree!"

"He can't have done that really or the King's Men would have caught him." Estel pointed out.

"More likely his mother and father would have locked him in his chamber." Amin answered. "But you're right. The songmakers must have made that bit up."

"They probably make a lot of it up." Hallam agreed. "At least I hope so. I'd hate to think Turin really was this wet."

At that moment tall, smiling Elf appeared in the entrance to their chamber. "The Lord Elrond releases you from your word." he announced. "You have the freedom of the Valley again."

"Hurrah!" pens and paper went flying as the three boys made a dash for the outdoors.

They found their foster sisters on the terrace below the nursery hall. Berya had a smudge of ink on her nose and Meleth's eyes were pink rimmed, as if she'd been crying. "I had Lamentation for the Fallen." she explained. It was an endless - and thoroughly depressing - poem mourning the many dead of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.2

Estel offered a handkerchief. "Blow your nose." he told her kindly, continuing to them all: "Let's go down to the guest house and see if the Dwarves are still there."

Visitors to Rivendell were quartered in a large building facing onto the west entrance court just below the Banquet Hall. Approaching it from the east the children were delighted to see the small, curly headed figure of the Dwarf child descending the back stair to gardens. They might have caught up with him and introduced themselves in the proper way if only he hadn't been heading right for the place where they always staged their Outlaw Ambushes. The temptation to make a more dramatic entrance was irresistable.

Ambush glade was, as Uncle had once remarked, tactically perfect for the purpose being surrounded by tall hemlocks and pines giving plentiful cover and with a meandering stream cutting off possible escape on two sides. The children took up their usual positions and waited.

The Dwarf child certainly did take his time, it seemed quite a long wait before he finally hove into view, nose buried in a book, and walked slowly past Hallam's position and Berya's. He had just come abreast of Amin's when Estel gave the signal and they all leapt out.

"Lay down your weapons and you will not be harmed!" Estel cried.

"Oh my goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the visitor dropping his book. Though no taller than Estel or Amin it was instantly quite clear to all five children he was in fact a grown-up person - though of what kind they couldn't think.

"I beg your pardon, sir." Estel stammered, recovering himself. "We didn't mean to startle you."

"Well actually we did." Meleth explained. "But you see we only saw you from a distance and thought you were a child like ourselves."

"It was a play you see." Amin finished. "We're very sorry." and he picked up the visitor's book for him.

"Quite all right, quite all right. Perfectly understandable mistake." the grown-up said, still looking just a bit rattled.

"I am called Estel." he said politely. "This is my little sister, Meleth and our cousins; Amin, Hallam and Berya."

The visitor looked over his shoulder and gave another start at the sight of the two elder children then recovered himself. "How do you do? I am Mr. Bilbo Baggins at your service." and he bowed to Estel who returned it.

"At yours and your family's."

"My word but you gave me a turn." Bilbo continued. "Is there anywhere to sit down?"

"There are some benches a little ways up the path." Berya offered. "We'll show you." They led Mr. Baggins the singing circle just around the bend from Ambush Glade with its seats formed out of living trees. The little brook widened there into a deep pool and a gap in the trees gave a clear view eastward to where the sun and the moon rose. Berya dipped a cup of water from the pool for Mr. Baggins and the children watched anxiously while he drank it.

"Are you feeling better now, sir?" Hallam asked. "Oh yes, quite recovered thank you." Bilbo Baggins studied them, frowning. "You're not Elves are you?"

"No we're Mortals, wards of Lord Elrond." Hallam answered.

"I see." said the guest, though he obviously didn't at all. "Er...who are your parents?"

The children exchanged uncomfortable looks. "We're not allowed to say." said Berya.

"It's a secret you see." Estel explained.

"A real secret not a play secret." added Meleth.

"So we musn't tell. We're sorry, we don't mean to be rude." Hallam finished.

"I wouldn't want you to say anything you're not allowed to." Mr. Baggins said quickly and changed the subject. "Er...very pretty place Rivendell."

"Thank you." said Berya politely.

"Where are you from Master Baggins?" Estel asked, adding hastily. "If you're allowed to say!"

"Oh yes, there are no secrets about me." the guest assured them. "I'm from the Shire."

"Oh! You must be a Halfling." Hallam said, enlightened.

"Ahem, we prefer 'Hobbit'." Bilbo said with dignity.

"I beg your pardon, Hobbit." Hallam corrected himself. "You hold the lands between the Baranduin and the Western Downs from King Argeleb don't you?"

Mr. Baggins blinked in surprise. "The Shire was granted to us by the King, a very long time ago when there still was a King."

"We're supposed to know things like that." Estel explained. "It's part of our education."

"How do you come to be with King Thorin?" Amin wanted to know. "I didn't know Halflings - Hobbits - had dealings with the Longbeards."

"Nor do we." Bilbo agreed. "Gandalf introduced us. You see I am an Expert Treasure-hunter!" he drew himself up proudly, "Thorin has hired me to help him steal his gold back from the Dragon."

The children were suitably impressed. "That's going to be dangerous." said Berya.

"Yes." Mr. Baggins slumped, looking worried. "I must admit I've never faced a Dragon before."

"I'm not surprised." said Hallam. "There aren't many left these days. Not south of the Withered Heath anyway."

"Oh, really?" the Hobbit seemed to be probing for more information so they gave it to him.

"We know all about Dragons." Estel explained. "Our ancestors used to kill them."

"When they didn't get killed themselves that is." from Amin. Bilbo clearly didn't find that at all an encouraging remark.

"But of course you're a Burglar, nobody expects you to slay Dragons." Hallam reassured him.

"Quite right!" said the Hobbit with emphasis.

"You may have to talk to Smaug though." said Berya. "Don't look him in the eye, that's very important."

"And don't tell him your name or anything about yourself if you can help it." from Estel.

"And above all don't believe anything Smaug tells you." said Hallam. "That may take some doing because Dragons can be very convincing but listening to them will lead you into all kinds of trouble."

"They tell lies." explained Meleth. "Even worse, they sometimes tell the truth but twist it so you do just the wrong thing. Like poor Turin."

"I see." said Mr. Baggins. "Turin?"

"An ancestor of ours." Hallam explained. "He listened to what a dragon told him and lots of people died because of it."

"Oh, I see. How very sad." Bilbo was beginning to look confused again.

"Ah, there you are, Mr. Baggins."

"Gandalf!" the children scrambled to their feet and flew to greet the wizard. He twinkled down at them. "I see you've been keeping my friend Mr. Baggins entertained."

"We've been telling him about Dragons." said Estel. The Wizard's bushy eyebrows rose and he added defensively: "They're in our books."

"Yes, of course."

"And we haven't said anything we oughten't." from Meleth.

"I'll attest to that." said Bilbo quickly. "In fact I'm quite at sea."

Gandalf laughed. "You're learning. Mr. Baggins, learning fast. When the time comes you'll know what to do or you're no grandson of the Old Took!"

Bilbo looked unconvinced. The wizard turned back to the children. "I take it you'll be joining us for dinner?"

"Yes, Uncle released us just this afternoon." said Berya.

"Good. And I trust you've learned your lesson?" one bushy brow arched.

"Yes indeed." Estel said firmly. "We'll never go out of the valley alone again - that's a promise."

"We didn't even eat the things we'd hidden because we were really sorry." put in Meleth.

"That was very honorable of you." Gandalf said, maintaining a grave front with some effort. "We shall see you this evening then. Mr. Baggins I would like a word with you."

"We'll be going." said Hallam taking the hint. The other children fell in obediently behind him. "Good-bye Gandalf. Good-bye Master Baggins."

--

NOTES:

_1. And now you know why Aragorn has a Westron translation of the Lay of Leithian on the tip of his tongue in LOTR. Needless to say he no longer complains about the romantic parts. ;)_

2. The Battle of Unnumbered Tears was a major defeat that pretty much destroyed organized opposition to Morgoth back in the First Age and killed lots of heroes, including several of the children's direct ancestors. Needless to say this poem is a real downer.


	4. Seeking Treasure

It was natural that their talk with Mr. Baggins and Hallam's translations of the Lay of Turin would turn the children's minds to Dragons leading to a new play. They had a cave was ready to hand, a little grotto in the gardens near one of the smaller waterfalls, but they also need a hoard and that posed difficulties.

The children had some jewelry of course, especially the girls, things the Elven smiths had made for them or they'd inherited but even piled all together on a table in the day nursery it wasn't nearly enough for a really good Dragon hoard. A thorough search of the nurseries produced a set of ivory horses with beryl eyes, three silver backed mirrors, four suits of gilt armor for toy knights, a rose crystal vase and matching bowl, a handful of uncut gemstones and a small carved sardonyx box with a sapphire set in the lid.

"Still not enough." Hallam said, discouraged, as they stood looking at their disappointingly small heap of treasure.

"What about Mother's things?" Amin suggested.

Hallam shook his head. "They're for the baby when she's grown."

"Yes I know, but couldn't we borrow them?"

"No!" strongly from Estel. "We mustn't take anything that isn't ours. Remember when we built the city of Gondolin out of Uncle's books?" Everybody did, and winced at the memory.

"But she was our mother too." Amin argued. "Don't we have some right to her things?"

"No." this time it was Berya, very decidedly. "Jewelry goes to daughters, everybody knows that."

"And the baby's too little to play." said Meleth. There was a gloomy silence.

"I guess we could pretend -" Hallam was beginning when Estel interrupted.

"Wait a moment! We have a real treasure don't we, why not use that?"

"You mean the things in the windowless tower?" Hallam asked doubtfully. "I don't know if we should -"

"Why not?" Meleth demanded. "It's ours isn't it? or at least Estel's."

"Partly yours too." her brother said generously. "You're all as much descendants of the Kings as I am."

--

The windowless tower stood by itself on one of the lower terraces surrounded by a stone wall. It was here Lord Elrond kept the heirlooms given into his care by the Heirs of Isildur. Neither gate nor door was locked as there was no need here in Rivendell. The children had often spent cold or rainy days there pouring over the belongings of their ancestors.

The treasury itself was up a long winding stair. It was an octagonal room, lit by candles, with large ironbound chests set against each of the seven walls. The shelves above them were lined with smaller caskets of wood or metal and ancient weapons - some dating back the Wars of the First Age - of Elf or Dwarf make or forged an Age ago in lost Numenor.

The mithril chased box holding the Elendilmir stood in the place of honor on the top shelf opposite the door. A longer box on the shelf below held the Silver Rod of Annuminas, the scepter of the High Kings. Other caskets contained the Nauglamir and the Jewels of the Queens, the scepters of the Kingdoms of Rhudaur and Cardolan and Jewels worn by Kings and High Kings. Shields hung on the walls above the shelves, emblazoned with devices in precious stones and metals and the great chests held armor plated with gold and silver, mithril, galvorn and culurin and weapons of lesser lineage if not workmanship; jewels worn by Princes and Princesses at the Courts of Annuminas and Fornost, and vessels of precious metal some decorated with gems. It was a treasure any Dragon would covet and undeniably their own. Made for the Kings of Old, stored away now in Rivendell because Rangers in the Wild had no use for such things.

"I don't know," Berya said looking uncertainly around her. "maybe it isn't right to play with these things."

"But we do," Estel argued, "all the time. Remember when we were Kings of Numenor and Feanor and his sons?"

"Of course we mustn't touch the Elendilmir or the Scepters," Hallam agreed, "but Estel's right, nobody's ever minded us playing with the other things."

"That's true." Berya conceded.

Hallam unfastened his cloak, spread it out on the floor and started scooping cups and plates from an open chest. Berya shrugged and began gathering jewelry into one of the larger boxes. The younger children quickly followed suit loading themselves with jewelry, weapons and bits of armor. When they were finished the treasure completely covered the floor of the little grotto and piled high against the walls. Sunlight reflected off gold and silver and set the jewels afire. The five children stood back, admiring the effect.

"All right, we have our hoard, who's going to be the Dragon?" Estel wanted to know.

"Hallam." Meleth answered promptly. "He's the biggest."

Her cousin opened his mouth to protest, then thought the better of it. "All right."

"I guess that makes the rest of us Turin and his Outlaws." said Berya.

"I don't want to be Turin." Amin said decidedly. "He's wet."

"Me either." equally firmly from Estel.

"He did make rather a mess of it didn't he." Berya agreed. "I know, let's be King Valandur and his warriors."

"That makes me the Worm of Gram Mountain." said Hallam, "Good, it's a better story anyway."

--

NOTES:

__

1. Valandur was the eighth King of Arnor. He won the loyalty of the Hill Men of Rhudaur by killing a Dragon who'd been preying upon them - but died of the deed and was buried upon Gram Mountain.


	5. Playing Dragons

Hallam, as the Dragon, dressed himself in some pieces of scaled Elvish armor which were rather to big for him and glistened red gold. Better still he found a helmet of Dwarvish make with a snarling dragon's head crest. It was very heavy and he couldn't quite see out of the eyeholes of the faceguard but the effect was excellent.

The other children got themselves up as best they could in whatever bits of armor they could find that weren't too hopelessly large. The effect here wasn't anywhere near as good as each was wearing mismatched pieces from two or more different suits. Berya had a tunic of gold colored mail, almost long enough for a dress, and a winged helmet of galvorn and silver, the nose guard coming nearly to her chin. However her red and gold damascened gauntlets fit quite well allowing her to get a good grip on her wooden practice sword, (they weren't silly enough to use the real swords, somebody might have gotten hurt).

Amin found himself a mail hood that covered not only head but shoulders and most of his chest, and a pair of vambraces that reached way past his elbows. Estel had a neckpiece big enough to serve as a breastplate and tied a pair of extra large vambraces to his shins as greaves. Since he was playing King Valandur he also bound a star on his brow, not the Elendilmir of course but one of the lesser jewels worn by Queens or Underkings.

Meleth was quite unable to find any piece of armor small enough for her to wear so she covered the front of her dress with jeweled broaches instead and wrapped her arms to the elbows in glittering chains.

Finally, when everybody had finished dressing, Hallam crawled into his gold lined cave to emerge moments later at Estel's, (King Valandur's) challenge and join battle. Of course this involved a good deal of shouting, shrieks from the girls, and roars from the beleaguered Dragon. It really wasn't surprising that they attracted attention. Unfortunately it was the attention of Uncle himself.

Elrond was walking in the garden with his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and King Thorin and Gandalf and several of the other Dwarves, discussing the safest routes over the Misty Mountains and through Mirkwood and whether help could be expected from the Men of Long Lake. Poor little Mr. Baggins was there too and becoming more and more alarmed as he listened to talk of Goblins and Spiders and of the terrible Necromancer who lived in the southern part of Mirkwood.

A particularly loud shriek, (from Meleth as she fell into the stream near the grotto) made him jump. "Good heavens what was that!"

Elrond smiled wyrly. "My wards at one of their games no doubt." he cocked his head as the shrieks and shouts continued. "Perhaps we'd better see what they're up to."

Meleth, after losing her sword in the stream, picked up a big two handled cup that had rolled out of the hoard and used it to throw water at the Dragon liberally splashing her fellow warriors as well. The others didn't like this much and were trying to make her stop when their Uncle's familiar voice rose above the shouts and scolding:

"Children! What is all this?"

"We're playing Dragons." Estel answered promptly, though rather breathlessly, water dripping from his hair. "Hallam's the Dragon."

Elves, Dwarves and Hobbit all stared at the children with surprisingly similar expressions.

"Estel's King Valandur and we're his warriors." Meleth explained, climbing out of the stream to stand soaked and glittering beside her brother.

Temporarily rendered speechless Elrond reached down to carefully detach a many rayed star of pure mithril set with a great green emerald from her dress and stare at it. "We needed a hoard," Estel explained, now a little defensive, "so we used some of the things from the windowless tower."

"We didn't take anything that didn't belong to us." Meleth said virtuously.

"She's got a point there, Father." Elladan murmured quietly into Elrond's ear, and got a dark look in return.

The hoard had become somewhat scattered in the course of the action, a glittering trail now led from streamside to grotto. The Dwarves, characteristically drawn to works of craft, moved among the treasures picking objects up to examine and saying things like

"Surely this is silverwork of Belegost!" or "See, here's Narvi's mark." to each other.

Elrond cleared his throat carefully. "There is no question but these things are your own, Dunadan, your heritage from your Fathers of Old." Estel looked wary, when Uncle used his title it usually meant he was in trouble. "This is the Elfstone, given by Gil-Galad to Elendil as token of their alliance -"

He was interrupted by King Thorin, holding a shimmering pearl the size and shape of a dove's egg caught in a twist of gold wire and hanging from his hand by a braided chain of gold and mithril. "And this is Nimphelos." the Dwarf said seriously. "Given by Thingol Greycloak to the Lord of Belegost in payment for the delving of his halls. And by the Lord of Belegost to Durin II High King of the Dwarves. And by my ancestor Thrain I to Aranarth of the Dunedain, who was yours, as thank gift and token of the friendship between our peoples. Is it well done, my Lord Aragorn, to play with such things?"

"Well said, Thorin." Elrond agreed. "Dunadan?"

"I suppose not. I didn't think of that." Estel conceded uncomfortably.

"I should have." Hallam said coming forward, helmet under arm. "I'm the oldest. I'm sorry, Uncle."

"We just wanted the Dragon's cave to look right." Berya put in, pulling off her own helm. She looked at Thorin. "Don't Dwarf children ever play with the beautiful things you make?"

Thorin's mouth twitched and he cast a twinkling glance sidelong at his nephews, Fili and Kili. "It has been known."

"But never with things so ancient and precious." Kili said quickly, ears reddening.1

"We didn't hurt anything," Amin pleaded, "and we were going to put it all back when we finished."

"I'd say you're finished now." Gandalf observed, a distinct note of amusement audible in his voice.

"Definitely." Elrond agreed dryly. "You will please return your property to it's proper place now."

"Yes, Uncle."

Hallam, Berya and Amin began picking things up off the grass. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged looks and moved to join them. Thorin handed Nimphelos to Estel and Elrond returned the Elfstone to Meleth.

She frowned at it, then at up at her Uncle. "Are you going to punish us?"

"Surely that would be unjust, Elrond." Gandalf said quickly raising bushy eyebrows. "After all, as the Lady Region 2 has quite properly pointed out, they have only made use of what is their own."

"That is true." Uncle conceded, then looked sternly down at his fosterlings. "However I trust in the future they will think twice before taking heirlooms of their House from the windowless tower." Estel and Meleth nodded fervently and backed quickly away to join the other children collecting treasures.

"I don't believe I can take much more of this, Gandalf." Elrond said to the Wizard. "Diverting waterfalls, climbing out of the valley, using the treasure of Elendil as toys -"

"Come, Elrond," Gandalf laughed, "the Heirs of Isildur have always been of an enterprising nature."

"That's one way of putting it." the Elf agreed dryly.

"It certainly looks like you have your hands full, Master Elrond." said an amused but not unsympathetic Thorin.

"Excuse me." little Mr. Baggins had been listening to all this in mounting confusion. "I don't wish to pry, but if I might ask; who are those children?"

"Descendants and heirs of the Kings of the West." Elrond answered somberly. "And my own distant kin through my brother Elros who became a Mortal Man."

"Good heavens!" gasped the Hobbit. "I thought the Kings were all dead long ago."

"So you and the rest of Middle Earth were meant to think." the Wizard looked sternly down at him, eyebrows bristling. "The Heirs of Isildur have many enemies, their continued existence must remain a secret."

"I understand." Bilbo said seriously. "I won't say a word."

Gandalf's face relaxed into a smile. "I know you won't, my dear Bilbo."

--

NOTES:

1. _I suspect some quite interesting youthful escapade on the part of Fili and Kili is being refered to here but unfortunately have no idea what it was._

2. Region is Meleth's formal name.


	6. Being Sick

It started with Meleth sneezing over her supper. The next morning Estel and Amin were also looking rather pink and feverish and by midday Hallam was coughing and Berya sniffling and it was clear all five had come down with cold.

"And what else can we expect with them kept standing in wet clothes for hours on end?" Nuneth 1 grumbled, moving down the line of boys popping spoonfuls of honeyed syrup into one obediently opened mouth after another. "Whatever was Lord Elrond thinking?"

"Of the treasure of Elendil spread over the grass I should think." Grandmother retorted, shaking her head. "Poor Elrond!"

"You have been rather trying recently." Aunt Ellian told her daughter mildly, as she and Aunt Gilraen tucked the girls snugly into bed.

"We don't mean to be naughty." Berya answered.

"At least not usually." Meleth added honestly, making her Grandmother laugh.

"Well they won't be getting into any more scrapes," Nuneth said, briskly herding the boys bedward, "not for a while at any rate."

The children were ordered to stay in bed with braziers in their rooms for warmth and given honeyed syrup for coughs, which was nice, and willow bark tea for fever, which was nasty. Uncle let them off lessons but they received a constant stream of callers, bearing fruit and comfits and cordials, ready and willing to tell stories, sing songs and play riddle games for hours on end to the delight of the children, the resigned amusement of their Mothers and Grandmother and the annoyance of their Nannies.

"Sometimes I think Elves have no sense at all." Iorwen 2 told Gilraen crossly, arms full of confiscated treats.

Estel's mother smiled, a little ruefully. "We must be patient with them, Nana, they're worried about the children."

The Elves always worried when the children were ill, knowing as they did that Mortals sometimes died of sickness and not quite grasping the difference between a cold and the plague. Uncle, of course, knew better but he was only Halfelven and had lived as a Man long ago when he was very young. But the rest of his people, including Elladan and Elrohir, were not completely reassured even though these children, (and previous generations of Heirs) had survived innumerable minor ailments in the past.

It may have been the stories and songs, or perhaps the comfits and sugared fruit, that brought on the dreams. Berya, shaken abruptly out of hers in the grey light before dawn, took several moments to remember where she was and recognize Estel and the other boys.

"What are you doing out of your room?"

"Never mind that," said Hallam as he climbed onto the girls' bed with the younger boys, settling themselves at its foot. "we just had the strangest dream."

"The same one," put in Estel, "all three of us."

"Really?" said Berya, waking up a little more and becoming interested. "A True Dream?"3

"I don't see how it could be." Hallam answered, frowning. "We were all in it, Estel, Amin and me -"

"And our father too." Amin put in.

"And we fought a huge army of orcs outside a city -"

"City?" this time it was Berya who interrupted. "We don't have cities any more."

"I know. And we were wearing armor and flying the banner of the High King."

"Don't forget the ships." Amin piped up. "We came to the battle on ships with black sails."

"And I had a sword," said Estel, looking troubled, "I think it was Narsil."

"It must have been a battle from the olden times." Berya guessed. "Maybe from the War of the Last Alliance."

"I don't think so." Hallam shook his head. "We were us, just grown up, and Father was there."

"And Elladan and Elrohir," added Estel, "and an Elf-lady. I think she was their sister Arwen." he turned pink. "She kissed me."

"Who kissed you?" Meleth asked sleepily and the boys had to tell their story all over again.

"Why would Lady Arwen kiss you?" she asked her brother when they'd finished.

Estel shrugged helplessly. "I don't know." 4

"Where would we get an army from? And what city were we fighting for?" Hallam demanded. "None of it makes sense."

"Maybe it's not a True Dream then, even if you all had it." Berya said. "I was dreaming about a battle too when you woke me up."

"Our battle?" Hallam asked interested.

"No a different one. We were fighting Stone Trolls and Orcs mounted on Great Wolves, in the Ettinmoors I think, an army of Rangers - but we were all got up in armor like the suits from the treasure, and flying the banners of Elendil and of Rhudaur."

"Rangers don't fight battles like that." Estel frowned. "Maybe you were dreaming about the old times - the wars of Queen Beruthiel" 5

"Can't have been." she shook her head decisively. "There were two Men, twins, riding with me and they called me mother. Beruthiel never had any children."

"That's even stranger than our dream." said Amin. "What about you, Meleth, did you dream about a battle too?"

"Ye-es." she said slowly, forehead wrinkled in concentration. "But it wasn't up north, or outside a city. It was at the foot of the Misty Mountains and Orcs and Cave Trolls were boiling out of the ground from a hundred different holes. But it was an army like Berya's, Rangers dressed up in armor, and I was riding next to Tithorn 6 under the banner of Cardolan." There was a brief silence as they puzzled over this.

"If they are True Dreams," Hallam said at last, "It means when we grow up the Dunedain stop hiding and fight our enemies in the open again." Everybody looked at Estel. As Chieftain such a decision would necessarily be his.

"Maybe that wasn't a good idea." he said uncertainly. "Maybe the dreams were meant as a warning."

"Anyway it's not going to happen for years and years if I had grown up sons." Berya said decidedly. "So get back to your own beds before you get caught and we all get into trouble!"

--

NOTES:

__

1. Nuneth is Estel and Meleth's Nanny, and was Gilraen's before that. She's in her nineties, but doesn't look a day over forty at the most.

2. Iorwen is Berya's Nanny, and was the nurse for Lady Ellemir's three children as well. She is one hundred and forty-two and beginning to show signs of age, grey hair, wrinkles, etc.

3. All Dunedain have episodes of fore and farsight, it is considered quite normal. Sometimes 'seeings' come as sudden inspirations or sometimes as dreams. A 'True Dream' is thus a dream that is also a seeing.

4. It will be some ten or so years before Estel finds out why Arwen kisses him.

5. Queen Beruthiel was the last ruler of the Kingdom of Rhudaur, and Berya's namesake. She kept the Witch King at bay for fifty years.

6. Tithorn, 'Little Eagle' is the child name of Belecthor, Berya's elder brother and Meleth's future husband.

Estel, Amin and Hallam are obviously dreaming about the Battle of Pelannor Field, Hallam, Amin and their father Halbarad are among the thirty Rangers who come south to aid Aragorn during the War of the Ring. Elladan and Elrohir are also part of their company, and in my AU Arwen is with them as well. Berya and Meleth are having previsions of the battles that will rage in Eriador at about the same time; the Dunedain will be called upon to repel invasions from the former Witch Kingdom of Angmar in the North and from the Orcs of Mount Gundabad and Moria.


	7. Dreams and History

Three days later they were finally allowed out of bed though still confined to the nursery. They passed the time building the city from the boys' dream. A blue bedcovering, folded and laid in a curve across the floor became the river and they spent some time sailing their model boats on it and Amin complained the sails were white instead of black.

"There was a low wall around fields and farms, that's where we fought the battle." Estel remembered, after they tired of playing with the boats.

"And the city had seven circles like Cardol," added Hallam, "but it wasn't Cardol because it was white and had mountains behind it." 1

They built a wall out of toy blocks enclosing a large swath of the nursery floor and put the girl's dollhouse and all their model animals inside it to represent the farms. Then they stacked a footstool, two small tables and a candle stand to make the city but there weren't enough blocks for seven circuit walls so they had to settle for four instead. Boxes and bottles, cups and bowls became buildings and a long white candle the city's topmost tower.

Estel stepped back to take in the total picture. "Not bad." he decided. "But there really should be seven walls."

"I know!" Berya jumped up and ran into her own room, returning a moment later with her hands full of ribbons. "We can wind these around the table legs and pretend they're the other three walls."

They were doing this carefully, because the stacked furniture was a little unsteady, when Uncle came in with Grandmother and then they had to explain what they were doing and why.

Uncle was very interested in the dreams, especially the boys', and insisted on hearing all about them in as much detail as the children could remember. "Your city sounds like Minas Tirith," he said when they'd finished, looking significantly at Grandmother for some reason, "that was once Minas Anor, seat of your ancestor Anarion the younger son of Elendil. Now the chief city and fortress of Gondor."

"But they don't want us in Gondor." Hallam reminded him.

"Perhaps that will change." Uncle said enigmatically. Now it was Grandmother's turn to give him a very pointed look and he cleared his throat. "But Berya is right, doubtless this seeing is very far in the future indeed and it is unwise to speculate about what it might mean. In due time we will know." 2

Uncle checked pulses, looked at their tongues, felt their foreheads and announced they would be allowed to play outside again in another day or two, which was very welcome news. But he also decided they were well enough to resume their lessons which was rather less welcome.

"You mean now?" Amin demanded incredulously.

Uncle's eyebrow rose. "Why not?" The children could think of several reasons, but none that grown-ups would accept. Resignedly they settled themselves on stools and cushions at their Uncle's feet. "Perhaps it is time we discussed your kingdom of Gondor, its history and its relations with the Heirs of Isildur." Uncle began. Berya, who happened to be looking at her Grandmother, could have sworn she saw Ellemir roll her eyes.

Of course the children already knew Gondor had been formed at the same time as Arnor and ruled jointly by the brothers Isildur and Anarion until the War of the Last Alliance in which Elendil and Anarion fell. Isildur thus became High King and made his nephew Meneldil, son of Anarion, his viceregent in the south. But Isildur too was killed, at the Gladden Field, and Meneldil refused to recognize the overlordship of Isildur's Heir, Valandil, declaring Gondor independent of the High Kingdom. King Valandil and his heirs, reluctant to shed kinsmen's blood, tolerated this state of affairs which inevitably led to an estrangement between the two Realms in Exile.

Left to themselves the Line of Anarion had turned to conquest, winning themselves an empire stretching far into the South and East, and growing rich on booty and tribute. In fact Imperial Gondor sounded uncomfortably like Numenor in the days of its pride before the Downfall. Gondor's downfall was the Kinstrife, when the Princes of the Anarioni had turned on their rightful King because his mother had been born of the 'Lesser Men' of Middle Earth. After that Gondor's fortunes had declined steadily, her empire torn away, her people decimated by wars and plague until the Line of Anarion failed. Now hereditary Stewards ruled the land for Gondor still refused to accept the Heirs of Isildur as their Kings.

"Maybe it's just as well." Meleth ventured. "They don't sound like very nice people."

Uncle frowned disapprovingly, clearly this was not the reaction he'd hoped for.

"Overproud certainly." Grandmother said calmly. "And stubborn with it," her eyes glinted amusement, "but then the same might be said of their Northern kin."

"Stubborn certainly." Uncle agreed dryly. "But not proud."

"That depends on what you mean by pride." Grandmother retorted.

"The pride of the Dunedain of the North lies in keeping their oaths, regardless of the cost to themselves." said Uncle grimly. "The pride of the Dunedain of Gondor caused the death of the Last King 3 and the failure of both Realms. It is because of Gondor's pride the Heirs of Isildur and their followers must live in hiding."

"I said they weren't nice people!" Meleth turned to her brother. "Why'd you want to save their old city anyway?"

Estel opened his mouth, but Grandmother answered for him. "Because they are still our kin and our responsibility," she said firmly, "and whatever their errors they have been valiant enemies of our Enemy for many long years."

She gave Elrond a warning look and he quickly agreed. "Yes, that is true."

--

NOTES:

__

1. Cardol, the ancient capital of Cardolan, was built of red stone on an artificial hill raised by Elendil where the the South road forks to go North to Fornost and West to Dunhirion and the Havens.

2. Elrond is understandably excited, the children's dreams suggest Estel will succeed in reuniting and rebuilding the kingdoms of the Dunedain as prophecied. But Ellemir is silently reminding him they've agreed not to burden Estel with his destiny until he is much older.

3. Arvedui, last High King of Arthedain, died TA 1975. According to the prophecy of Malbeth had Gondor accepted Arvedui, (husband of the only surviving child of the last king but two of Gondor) as their ruler he would, with the resources of both kingdoms behind him, have been able to defeat Sauron and restore the fortunes of the Dunedain.

Isildur's defeat of Sauron was the Dunedain's first chance, Arvedui the second, Aragorn will be their third and last. If he fails, for whatever reason, the Dunedain and perhaps the whole Race of Men will be lost for good.


	8. A Present for Uncle

The children knew the Dunedain of the North lived in hiding and that they themselves were a carefully guarded secret just as they'd always known that the Southern Kingdom rejected the sovereignity of the House of Isildur. But they'd never realized the two things were related or that history and their own lives might have been very different had the people of Gondor chosen otherwise. It was a peculiar and uncomfortable feeling.

"But why did they refuse Arvedui?" Amin demanded over their dinner that evening. "Didn't they know what would happen?"

"They can't have," said Hallam. "or they wouldn't have done it."

"He should have told them." said his brother.

"Maybe he did," Berya said quietly to her plate, "but they didn't believe him."

The three younger children stared at her appalled. "Well if they think the Heir of Isildur would lie then I don't want any part of them." Estel said hotly. "They can keep their old city, and their kingdom as far as I'm concerned!"

"Me too!" said Meleth loyally. And Amin nodded his agreement, mouth full.

"That was all settled a long time ago." Hallam reminded them. "Gondor is no concern of ours, or ever likely to be."

"Unless it was a true dream." said Berya.

--

Once allowed out again the children were promptly caught up in the whirl of preparations for the Midsummer festival. There were songs and dances to learn, fittings for new clothes, and above all else the difficult problem of gifts. As they had all learned painfully over the years grown-ups don't like, don't want, or can't use just about everything that seems like a good present to a child.

Berya, being a good needlewoman, had a definite advantage over the others in the matter of gifts, although even she admitted the last thing Grandmother, their mothers, or the twins needed was yet another embroidered girdle or pair of gloves. But she was justly proud of the present she'd made for her Uncle; selected verses from the Lay of Earendil carefully inscribed in a little vellum book and bound in a silk cover she'd embroidered herself. Berya's little book had given Hallam the idea of having the smiths make a place marker to go with it. It was of ivory and gold and inset with the seal of Earendil in jewels and enamel.

The three younger children agreed their Uncle was the hardest person in Middle Earth to get a present for. Baskets of fruit and flowers, (and some of the sweets left over from their illness) did for their mothers and Grandmother. And the now half-grown kestrel chicks they'd been hiding in the Summer Tower were for the twins. But what to give Uncle? They turned to their Grandmother for advice.

"I see your difficulty." she said meditatively, stitching up a long rent in one of Estel's tunics. "Of course you know what I give your Uncle every year; accounts of skirmishes, patrols and other happenings among our people for his Chronicle. Perhaps you could do the same."

"How?" Amin wanted to know. "We can't ride around the holdings to hear the news."

"I meant a chronicle of your own doings, here in the Valley." Grandmother explained.

"But he already knows about those." Meleth pointed out.

"Yes, but this would be for his library, for him to read when you're grown and gone. And others after him." the children still looked doubtful. "Don't you like to read King Valandil's book and hear stories about the other children who've grown up here in Rivendell?"

"But we don't have time to write anything before Midsummer eve." Estel protested.

"That's true." Grandmother conceded. "But there's always next year."

It was a good idea all right - but they still had to think of something for this year. In desperation they went to Gandalf for suggestions. "Mmmmm...yes, quite a problem. What does one give to the Elf who has everything?"1 the Wizard puffed on his pipe, thinking hard. "I happen to know your Uncle will make a trip over the mountains in the very near future," he said at last, "what about something he'd find useful on the journey?"

"Like a saddle and bridle?" Amin asked dubiously, "what else do you need for a journey?"

"Cloak, boots, weapons, saddlebags, blankets, a water bottle.." Estel listed.

"But there's no time!" Meleth protested. "It's too late to have anything made."

It was clear from Estel's face he had an idea. "Gandalf, would it be all right to give Uncle something from our treasure?"

"That would depend on what you have in mind." the Wizard answered cautiously.

"It's one of the special things on the shelves," Estel explained as they climbed the winding stair to the treasury, "I thought of it when I said waterbottle."

It was in a simple but elegant wooden casket on the lowest shelf, just under the scepter of Annuminas, a small bottle cut from a single enormous green beryl with a silver stopper. Gandalf turned it over in his hands. "It's not a waterbottle, Estel, but a flask for miruvore." he cleared his throat. "I think Elrond would appreciate it very much."

Three small sighs of relief fluttered the still air of the treasure chamber. "Give it to me." Meleth said, holding out her hands. "I'll have Lady Lorellos fill it for us."

"And I'll find a pouch to put it in." said Amin.

--

NOTES:

__

1. Sorry, I couldn't resist. Somebody just had to say that line!


	9. Midsummer's Eve and Mr Baggins

Midsummer Eve is officially the second longest day of the year - but to children waiting for the celebrations to begin at sunset it seems THE longest. A flock of Elf-maidens descended on the nursery at daybreak and carried Berya off with them. Then the twins showed up and insisted on taking Hallam away though they wouldn't say why and just laughed when the youngsters asked if they couldn't come too. Left to their own devices the three younger children wandered into the Banquet Hall about mid-day to find it full of Elf-girls, Berya among them, busily weaving garlands out of heaps of flowers and yards of brightly colored ribbon.

Little Mr. Baggins was there too, sitting disconsolately at the the far end of one of the lower tables. "There's nothing to eat." he told the children mournfully.

"We know. You're supposed to save your hunger for the feast tonight." Estel explained.

Poor Bilbo looked so appalled at the prospect of going foodless til sunset that the children took him back to the nursery and shared their hidden cache of fruit, meat and cheese with him.

"Oh dear," he said when he finally slowed down. "I seem to have eaten most of your stores."

"That's all right." Meleth assured him, "it wouldn't have kept much longer anyway."

"Hobbits seem to eat a great deal." Amin observed.

Estel elbowed him. "That's rude!"

"No, no, he's quite right." Mr. Baggins smiled to show he wasn't offended. "We Hobbits do like our food, seven meals a day when we can get them."

"Seven?" Meleth echoed, round eyed.

"There's first breakfast and second breakfast," said Bilbo, ticking them off on his fingers, "then elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and finally supper."

The three children stared incredulous. "All that?" Estel gasped.

"How do you ever get anything done?" Amin wondered.

"Oh we manage." the Hobbit looked suddenly wistful. "I have a bit of something for first breakfast right after I get up, then do my morning chores and sit down to a nice second breakfast in my parlor or outside on the lawn. After that it's time for a pipe or two, and to write my orders for the grocer and the butcher and the dairyman, or have a chat with Old Holman 1, (my gardener you know) and by the time I'm finished with all that it's struck eleven and I'm ready for a little something to refresh myself."

The children's rapt attention encouraged him to go on. "After elevenses I might take a walk, or pay a call on a friend, or I might have business matters to attend to. Sometimes I lunch at the Green Dragon, that's our local inn, quite a good cook they have there too. I might spend the whole afternoon at the Dragon hearing the news and visiting with my neighbors. Then it's home to dinner with perhaps a guest or two to share it. Pipe and slippers and a good book, then supper and finally bed." he sighed. "A very quiet life really."

"It sounds nice." Meleth said tactfully.

"I suppose you became a burglar for a bit of excitement." said Amin, rather less tactfully.

"Yes," said Mr. Baggins, sounding faintly surprised, "I suppose I did." he lowered his voice confidentially. "It was Gandalf's idea actually, and sometimes I think it was a very bad one," he paused, looked around the nursery with its lacy vaulting and graceful statues. "Other times I think he was quite right, quite right."

They ended up spending most of the day with Mr. Baggins. His Dwarf companions were all wrapped up in packing and preparations, as they were to resume their journey Midsummer morning, leaving their burglar at loose ends just like the children. It soon became clear Bilbo had been told who they were so the children could answer his questions as readily as he had answered theirs.

He seemed to find it all a bit much to take in, the Lost Realm of Arnor and the Witch Wars and the rest. "So the King's People didn't all die after all." he said.

"No. That's just what Aranarth wanted everybody to think, so the Witch King would stop his warring." Estel explained. "

And it worked." said Meleth. "He thought he'd won and went away."

"But - hadn't he won?" Bilbo asked uncertainly.

"NO!" all three children cried at once, making him jump.

"He hasn't won because we're still here." explained Estel. "Still protecting our people from the creatures he left behind."

"We're called Rangers now." Amin chimed in. "You must have seen some of us on the road."

"The tall Men in green." added Meleth helpfully.

"But we're not your people," Mr. Baggins objected. "we Hobbits and the Breelanders and the rest."

"Of course you are." Estel assured him. "Long, long ago the Men of Eriador swore allegiance to Elendil and his Heirs and so did the Hobbits when they came into the Kingdom. And in return we promised to protect you from your enemies, we're just keeping our word."

"I see." said Bilbo very thoughtfully.

--

Even the second longest day of the year eventually ends. The children presented themselves at the Banquet Hall as the golden afterglow of sunset filled the Valley. Tubbed and scrubbed to a quite unnecessary degree, (in their opinion) and dressed in their new festival finery. Meleth's summer blue gown shimmered with flowers embroidered in brilliant silks and gilt thread. Estel was in green and white and Amin wore blue and yellow.

Garlands of flowers were plopped on their heads by laughing Elves the minute they stepped over the threshold but of course they expected that, and everybody else was wearing them too. The Dwarves seemed slightly embarrassed by theirs and kept fidgeting with them but Mr. Baggins quite ignored his, intent on his plate. And Gandalf sported his wreath of violets and cornflowers with the air of one well accustomed to such adornments. Only Thorin himself, his sister-sons Fili and Kili, and the Wizard had places at the high table, the other guests were seated at the head of the nearest side table.

Estel found himself placed between Thorin and Gandalf on his Uncle's right hand with Hallam, who he hadn't seen all day, directly opposite him. In addition to his garland Estel noticed his cousin had a bluebell in a knot of orange ribbon pinned to his green surcoat.

"Where'd you get that from?"

Hallam blushed and Elladan, beside him, laughed. "Never you mind, young Estel." 2

He looked at Amin, on Elladan's other side, and his cousin shrugged equally baffled. Then Thorin made a comment about the weather and Estel had to concentrate on making polite conversation with the guest.

The feasting lasted til moonrise, then Uncle took the Dwarves and Mr. Baggins off to his library for some last minute advice but the rest of the company went laughing and talking and singing though the forecourt, out the gate, across the bridge and down the riverside to a wide green lawn lit by lamps of jewel-like colored light where they made music and danced.

Berya, in a rose red dress patterned with silver leaves, danced with Elrohir who had a knot of red ribbon and a pink rosebud pinned to his shoulder. And Hallam danced with a pretty Elf maiden in a shimmery orange dress with bluebells and snowdrops in her hair. Estel had a dance with his mother. Gilraen looking lovely in buttercup yellow, Midsummer being one of the two days a year that she put aside her mourning grey. Then He waited until Meleth and Amin had finished their dance before reminding them they had to go and collect their presents.

The baskets of flowers and sweets for Mother, Aunt Ellian and Grandmother, and the green silk pouch holding Uncle's gift were quickly fetched from their chest in the nursery and Nuneth set to watch over them. Getting the kestrel chicks proved more challenging. They were sleepy and cross and inclined to snap at fingers and noses. The children soothed them with Elf speech as they put on the jesses and once the hoods were on the little birds seemed to go right back to sleep. By the time the children got back to the dancing lawn Uncle and the guests had come down and the gift giving had begun.

"Ah, here are our truants." said Uncle, sitting in the chair set for him under a tall hemlock. "And what are these?" meaning the birds.

"They're for Elladan and Elrohir from us three." Estel said quickly. "We had to go up to the summer tower to get them."

"You've been keeping them in the summer tower?" Uncle asked, eyebrows and voice rising.

"We'll clean it up." Meleth assured him hastily.

"Indeed you will!" Uncle promised as Gilraen covered her eyes and Grandmother shook her head, a smile tugging at her mouth.

"They're lovely little birds," Elladan interposed tactfully. "Thank you, Estel."

"And Amin and Meleth." his twin added.

Amin in the meantime had quietly gotten the silk pouch from Nuneth and handed it to Estel. "And this is for you, Uncle."

Elrond opened it rather cautiously, presents from his fosterlings could be quite unpredictable and occasionally hazardous, then lifted out the flask: Pear sized and pear shaped, the polished beryl etched with a delicate pattern of leaves, the silver stopper wrought in the shape of a flower. Uncle stared at it as if transfixed.

"It's from the treasury," Estel said, uneasily, "but Gandalf said it would be all right to give it to you."

"Thank you, children," Elrond said rather huskily, "It is very beautiful." he cleared his throat. "I believe you'll find some things to interest you on the other side of the lawn." The children raced off, followed by mothers, Grandmother and the twins.

Elrond turned to Gandalf. "Olorin -" 3

"It was entirely their own idea, I assure you." the Wizard smiled. He nodded at the flask. "Estel picked it out himself, he had no way of knowing it had belonged to Elros, or that you had given it to him."

"When we said good-bye, just before he sailed for Numenor." Elrond said softly, blinking back tears. "Imagine his heirs keeping such a little thing all these long years."

"Your brother's children have a knack for hanging on to what's important." said Gandalf

--

NOTES:

__

1. This is Holman Greenhand, the Gaffer's cousin and predecessor as gardener at Bag End.

2. It is the custom on Midsummer Eve morning for Elf-maidens to collect flowers for garlands and decorations and for the unmarried Elf-men to tease and flirt with them as they do so. The maidens give favors, a flower and a bit of ribbon, to the men who please them. It's all very light and courtly and at fourteen Hallam and Berya are now considered old enough to join in the fun.

3. Gandalf, then called Olorin, was part of the Host of Valinor which defeated Morgoth at the end of the First Age which was when he first got to know Elrond and his brother Elros.


	10. Unwelcome Changes

Elves are easy-going in the matter of staying up late, as one might expect given their proclivity for singing under the stars. Grandmother usually was not but she made an exception for the Midsummer festival. The children were allowed to watch out the short night along with the rest of Rivendell. The Dwarves very sensibly decided to snatch a few hours sleep as they planned to resume their journey in the morning and took Mr. Baggins, who they discovered dozing under a tree, away with them.

The children's presents were unusually good that year: For Meleth there was a golden ball with bells inside to chime sweetly when it was tossed; a little holly bush, (her formal name, Region, meant holly) wrought of pure gold, with leaves enameled dark green and clustered carbuncles for berries; a delicate golden chain set with tiny flowers of citrine and pearl; and a yellow songbird in a cage of woven ivy tendrils.

Estel and Amin each got an Elvish hunting hound puppy, Estel's was white and Amin's brindled; also new bows, having outgrown their old ones, with quivers, baldericks and wrist-guards worked all over in a tracery of leaves, Estel's in mithril and Amin's in ordinary silver. Estel had also a game of bowls with blue, red and white balls; and the Star of the Dunedain wrought in silver and adamant 1. For Amin there was a hunting horn decorated in culurin and gold with an intricately carved spiral top.

But the biggest present meant for them all was so wonderful, even for Elvish work, that it literally took their breaths away: It was a model of Minas Tirith, the city in the boys' dream, nearly as tall as Hallam with each building carved in exquisite detail out of pale stone. And the roofs of some could be removed to reveal equally detailed interiors with finely made miniature furniture. And there were over a hundred brightly painted lead figures; King and Queen, courtiers, knights, guards and townsfolk.

The city kept the children fully occupied, awed and delighted, until well after sunrise when they tore themselves away to bid farewell and good fortune to Thorin and Company, and most especially Mr. Baggins, Then they went to breakfast and on to their usual lessons, though Estel, Amin and Meleth found themselves taking unexpected and unintended naps that afternoon.

As the high summer days passed the youngsters couldn't help noticing a change in the two older ones. Hallam had been given a horse, one of the tall shaggy Numenorean breed ridden by the Rangers, and Ranger weapons as well; a short black yew bow and long, slender bladed sword with leather wrapped grip. He no longer shared the younger boys' arms lessons and took to spending a great deal of time with the twins and Lord Glorfindel, who surprisingly didn't seem to find him a nuisance at all.

Berya was no better. She had gotten a snow white goshawk and a disk brooch of intricate golden filigree for Midsummer festival. Also a lute decorated with delicate silver scrollwork and a sewing box of sweet scented sandalwood inlaid in nacre and silver with ivory spools of colored silks, silver needles and small gold handled scissors. Suddenly all her time was taken up by music lessons or spent with the Elven seamstresses and broideresses.

"What's the matter with them?" Meleth wondered one day as the three youngsters sat high up in the branches of a grand old pine overhanging the western path into the Valley.

"Mother says they're growing up." Estel answered gloomily, stripping tiny cones from a nearby bough. "Hallam's got to start learning to be Ranger and Berya to run a holding. In a few more years it'll be our turn."

"But that's good, isn't it?" asked Amin. "We'll be able to go out of the Valley and fight Orcs and Trolls and see Mr. Baggins' Shire and things."

"Me too?" asked Meleth.

"Of course you too." her brother assured her promptly then continued to Amin. "It's bad because Berya and Hallam aren't going to want to play any more, and they'll get to go out and have real adventures years and years before we do."

"Oh. I see." said Amin and looked thoughtful.

The chiming of little bells and sound of Elvish voices drew their attention downward. A procession of riders clad in sea grey and green was coming down the path. Estel and Meleth instantly recognized the silver haired Elf at its head.

"Grandfather!"

"Who?" asked Amin.

"Our grandfather, Lord Cirdan from the Havens." Estel explained.

"Yours too of course. His daughter married Aerandir of Dunhirion remember?" 2 By now the procession was passing directly under their tree, impulsively Estel dropped his handful of pine cones onto them.

Cirdan's horse shied as they pattered around him and the Elf-lord looked upward, smiled. "What birds are these roosting in Elrond's trees?"

"It's not birds, it's us, Grandfather." Meleth called down, leaning perilously far out. "Me and Estel."

"So I see. And who is this with you?"

The children swarmed down the tree, watched rather nervously by the Elves below. "Our cousin Amin," Estel answered breathlessly, as they arrived on the ground.

"Halbarad's younger son?" Cirdan said at once, to Amin's surprise. "I know your father well, he sailed with us many times."

"I didn't know that." Amin said fascinated.

"Long ago, before you were born, Little One." a shadow of sadness passed over the Elf's face and was quickly put aside. He leaned down to offer his hand to Meleth, "come little granddaughter, ride with me."

Cirdan hadn't come to visit Uncle, he was only stopping over in Rivendell on his way over the mountains and Elrond was to go with him.

"It's a meeting of the White Council." Hallam told the other children.

"So that's how Gandalf knew Uncle would be making a journey." Estel said, enlightened.

"Must be." Hallam agreed, continued, lowering his voice. "Elrohir says Uncle and Gandalf are going to try to persuade the rest of the Council to move against the Necromancer. He's growing too powerful, Elladan says, becoming a threat to King Thranduil and even to Lorien."

"And to us too." that was Berya. "He's why the Orcs are multiplying in the mountains and the Trolls are becoming so bold."

The children exchanged somber glances. They knew the Necromancer's true name, and the very special danger he posed to their people - and to themselves.

--

NOTES:

_1. Many years later Aragorn will wear this jewel in Gondor, and be given the name Thorongil. 'Eagle of the Star'._

2. This was the Lady Maril. Her husband was a prince of Dunhirion, (the Dunedain's city below the Tower Hills) and a great voyager and explorer. Their descendants have intermarried with the Line of Isildur making Cirdan ancestor to all three children. After Aerandir's death Maril continued to live in the white house of the Princes for nearly two hundred years, until the last of her children had also passed away. Only then did she sail oversea, hoping to find a cure for sorrow in the Blessed Land.


	11. Trouble Across the Mountains

Grandfather didn't seem to be in any hurry to continue his journey, White Council or no. He admired the children's Midsummer presents, especially the model city of Minas Tirith, and heard all about the dream that had prompted the gift. He identified the black sailed ships as belonging to the Corsairs of Umbar.

"And what would we be doing on Corsair ships?" Hallam demanded disbelievingly.

"That I cannot say." Cirdan replied serenely, smiling at his grandchildren. "But I do not doubt you will have good reason for whatever you do."

Two days later the children discovered what their Grandfather and Uncle had been waiting for when an escort of twenty mounted Rangers, led by the son of the Warden of the Angle 1, rode into the Valley to protect the two Elven-lords on their journey.

"You are most welcome, Thorondil." Uncle told their Captain on the terrace outside his library. "But surely such a numerous company is excessive?"

"I hope so," the Man answered, "but I fear not. It seems the Orcs have opened up a new gate on the High Pass. They seized Thorin Oakenshield and his company." Estel, standing by with the other children, gasped and Thorondil turned to smile reassuringly at him. "Never fear, Dunadan, they escaped without harm thanks to Gandalf and Gwaihir Windlord." Thorondil's family had ancient ties with the Great Eagles and often got both news and aid from them. 2

"And where is King Thorin's company now?" Elrond asked in some concern.

"The Eagles dropped them on the banks of the Anduin, Gandalf planned to get help from Beorn then leave their company under the eaves of Mirkwood and turn south to Lorien."

--

It was Elrohir who suggested including Hallam in the traveling party that evening at dinner. "He's done well in his practice at arms and is old enough to see something of war."

All five children stopped eating to stare at him, Hallam hopeful the others indignant.

"I fear we will not get over the mountains without battle and ambush." said Thorondil, then smiled at his young relative. "Still, I expect Halbarad's son can take care of himself."

"We should be large enough a company to meet whatever the Orcs have to send against us." Elladan observed, looking at his father.

Elrond looked at Grandmother. The five children watched with bated breath as Ellemir considered. "It is not the custom of the Isildurioni to avoid danger." she said at last. "I believe Halbarad, were he here, would approve."

Hallam went red with suppressed excitement.

"What about the rest of us!" Estel burst out. "We are not talking about a pleasure trip." Ellemir said crisply. "Of you all only Hallam is grown enough to bear a Man's arms."

"It would be folly to risk our Chieftain unnecessarily, Dunadan." Thorondil said kindly. "Or the ladies." he added with a smile for the girls. Meleth looked disgusted but Berya blushed pink and stared at her plate.

"When you are grown you may adventure yourself as you choose, Aragorn, but for now you will abide by our judgment." Elrond said firmly.

"Yes, sir." Estel said, meek tone belied by his rebellious face.

The three younger children were still a little resentful as they watched Hallam ride out of the Valley the next morning, along with Uncle, Grandfather, the twins and the Rangers.

"What did I tell you," Estel grumbled to the others, "Hallam and Berya are going to have all the fun from now on."

"I'm not going either." Berya pointed out.

"You don't even want to, you'd miss your music lessons." Meleth said disgustedly.

"Sure she does," Amin corrected, "if she can be with Thorondil!"

Berya turned red as her gown. "What do you mean?"

"I saw him kiss your hand." said Amin.

"Oh, yecch!" said Estel.

"Ber-ya's in lo-ove!" Meleth sang.

"I am not! He was just being polite - to a lady which is more than you'll ever be Region!" Berya shouted and flounced angrily away. 3

--

NOTES:

__

1. The Angle is the triangle of land between the Mitheithel and the Bruinen rivers. One of the Warden's chief duties is to keep the northern passes over the Misty Mountains open.

2. Thorondil's name means 'Eagle Lover' which is also the name of his House, the Sorondili, in Quenya. They are descended from Manwendil, second son of Elros Tar-Minyatur, and were Lords of Ondosto the mountainous northern province of the island kingdom where they befriended the Great Eagles who nested in the high peaks. When Sauron was brought to Numenor by Ar-Pharazon the Great Eagles abandoned the island and the Sorondili followed them back to Middle-Earth, settling in a dale at the foot of the Misty Mountains.

3. As a matter of fact Berya is falling in love with Thorondil. He is her future husband.


	12. Troubles at Home

Of course that wasn't the end of it. The three younger children continued to tease Berya about her 'lover' whenever the mood struck - especially Meleth - until finally one day Berya lost her temper and slapped her little sister across the face to the horror of them all.

Grandmother was magisterially impartial in her condemnation. Certainly Berya should not have struck Meleth but the younger girl couldn't pretend she hadn't deliberately provoked her sister. And the boys were no better. Indeed she, Grandmother, was sick and tired of all the quarrelling. Clearly it was high time Berya moved out of the nursery into rooms of her own.

Shocked apologies and promises of better behavior, from all four children, were to no avail, grandmother had made up her mind. And so Berya tearfully collected her belongings and moved upstairs to a corner chamber with a balcony overlooking the sunken garden between their Hall and Uncle's.

Meleth cried herself to sleep all alone in the big bed that night, and the next morning Berya admitted she had done the same upstairs in her new room.

"But you have your bird to keep you company." she told Meleth as they sat together on the steps to the nursery terrace. "I'm all alone."

"Nonsense, my lady, why your mother is in the next chamber and the Lady Ellemir just a step down the gallery." Lindis said bracingly. She was the Elf maiden assigned to look after Berya now, just as Grandmother and their mothers all had ladies to attend on them.

The move would have happened soon anyway she assured the children, even without all the quarrelling. The Lady Beruthiel, as she insisted on calling her mistress, was growing up, she needed her privacy.

"Does that mean Hallam won't be coming back to our room?" Amin asked worriedly.

"Probably not." Lindis admitted after a moment's hesitation. "of course it is Lord Elrond's decision to make, but now Lord Halladan is old enough to bear arms it would be more fitting if he were housed in the Princes' Hall."

"Well at least I'm still in our own hall!" said Berya.

"He won't care." Estel said gloomily. "He spends all his time over there anyway these days."

"It won't be too many years before you join him." Lindis reminded him, a little sadly.

The children were just beginning to adjust themselves to the new state of affairs when Grandmother upset everything again by announcing Berya, and only Berya, would be allowed to accompany her on her usual summer progress around the Holdings. They all thought that was unfair but arguing with Grandmother never got you anywhere.

"Berya is growing up," she said, "It's high time she learned to know her own people."

"They're our people too!" Estel pointed out.

"Indeed they are, his grandmother agreed, "and your turn will come - when you're older."

"I told you so." Estel reminded his sister and foster brother after they had retired to their flet in the old Beech tree to sulk. "That's all we're going to hear from now on - Hallam and Berya are older so they can do whatever they like, but we can't do anything."

"Berya feels bad about it too." said Amin.

"Now she does." said Estel. The other two looked at him and he sighed. "I know, it's not her fault or Hallam's either, but it's not fair."

On that they were all agreed. The five of them had done everything together since Hallam and Amin came, nearly two years ago now. Why did Grandmother and Uncle have to change that?

The Lady Ellemir rode out of the Valley a few days later with a small escort of Rangers, Aunt Ellian, Iorwen, and of course Berya. Their sister looked both excited and apologetic as she hugged them all good-bye, promising to tell them everything when she got back which of course didn't help at all.

The Elves were always unhappy when the children were unhappy and they did everything they could think of to cheer them up. They were allowed to ride with the hunt and sit up as late as they liked and the smiths made more figures to people their model city and the seamstresses sewed tiny banners and tapestries to decorate the houses and streets, and the Wood Elves fed them so many fruit sweets and cordials that they had no appetite for their regular meals. Of course the Elves knew well enough what the children really wanted was an adventure outside the Valley but they didn't see how they could possibly give them one.

Until, that is, the Lady Lorellos had an idea. Neither Elrond nor the Lady Ellemir would have permitted it for a minute, but they were away and the Lady Gilraen was not so strict, and still young enough to empathize with her children's sense of grievance. Estel and Amin were playing a desultory game of chess with Meleth watching them and toying with the captured pieces. The Lady Lorellos and Gilraen entered the nursery by way of the inside door, looking pleased with themselves and maybe a little guilty.

"You all know, of course, that Rivendell buys its grain and other foodstuffs at the Hoarwelling harvest fair." Lady Lorellos began, waving the children back into their chairs. "The villages of the Angle are well protected by the two rivers and the Rangers." she continued as the children exchanged puzzled glances. "Lady Gilraen agrees there is no reason why you shouldn't accompany the wagons."

"Really?" gasped Amin.

"You mean it?" asked Estel, not quite daring to believe.

"Oh thank you, Mama!" Meleth cried, throwing herself into her foster mother's arms and then Lady Lorellos'.

Nuneth opened her mouth, caught Gilraen's eye and closed it. But she didn't look at all happy.

--

NOTES:

_Come on, you think they grow their own food in Rivendell? Fruit and nuts from the trees, yes. Birds and game, yes. Wheat, vegetables, milk, eggs and other such mundane provender, I think not! Besides there's precedent - remember the Elves of Mirkwood get wine of Dorwinion, and no doubt other things, through their trade with Lake Town._


	13. Messages from Over the Mountains

Of course the Hoarwelling harvest fair didn't happen until October and everybody from the children to the Lady Lorellos knew in their hearts that the outing would be forbidden should Lord Elrond or Grandmother return before that time. So it was with a certain guilty relief, as well as concern, that the household at Rivendell learned Elrond and Gandalf's councils had prevailed and the assault on the Necromancer decided.

Elrond's letter summoning Glorfindel and such Elves as could bear arms to join him in Lorien also enclosed a second asking the the Lady Ellemir for whatever force she could spare.1 Her answer rode into Rivendell two weeks later; Estel's uncle Armegil, Captain of the North, at the head of the largest host of Rangers the children or Elves had ever seen gathered together: A full two thousand Men mailed and helmed beneath worn green surcoats and cloaks, armed with sword and spear and bow, but flying no banner and bearing no badge.

"Are you sure the Dunedain can spare so many, Armegil?" Glorfindel asked in concern.

The Captain flashed the brief, grim smile of his kind. "Quite sure. We only wish it could be more." They were sitting over wine in Elrond's withdrawing room and three children were with them. Armegil's smile warmed as he turned to Amin. "Your father will command the North in my absence, cousin, though he would much rather have come with us. Not least for the chance of a visit with you and your sister."

"Does he know Hallam went with Uncle?" Amin wanted to know, grievance showing.

"He does, and approves. But that is not to say he isn't glad his younger son is not yet old enough for war. Do not begrudge him the joy of knowing two at least of his children are safe from harm."

Amin flushed and mumbled he'd try. Armegil turned to his nephew. "My mother has decided to remain at Arnost 2 so she may keep a close watch on the North." The children exchanged furtive glances. "As it happens there has been a distinct falling off in Orcish raiding of late," Armegil continued to Glorifindel, "which is why we can spare so many Men to Lord Elrond."

"We may thank Mithrandir and King Thorin for that." the Elf answered. "They slew the Great Goblin and now all the lesser chiefs are at each others throats."

"Then we must take full advantage of our good fortune while it lasts." said Armegil.

After the Elven host and the Rangers rode away there was nothing to do but wait for news - and for October. Grandmother's letters from Arnost reported the Hill Folk as quiet and Orc activity almost non-existent. Trolls however were becoming a problem. The news from over the Mountains was less good.

The first message, carried by the Great Eagles, said the Council's attempt to take Dol Guldur by storm had failed and they'd been forced to lay a siege. Thanks to the death of the Great Goblin the Necromancer had now no near allies to call on but there were, others farther away, who would come to his aid given time. 3 The longer the matter dragged on the greater the danger to the besiegers. The second message assured the children their kin were still safe and hinted Gandalf had a plan. And the third reported the success of that plan, an infiltration of the fortress by secret ways known to the wizard. 4

The Necromancer's creatures had been slaughtered and he himself forced to flee. But it was now late September and there were still fugitives to be hunted in the darkness of Mirkwood and the fortress itself to be cleansed, as well as might be, and garrisoned. Elrond decided to winter in Lorien, returning to Rivendell in spring when the passes were clear and Grandmother would remain at Arnost until Armegil returned, so the way was clear for the children's own adventure.

--

NOTES:

__

1. Ellemir has acted as Chief Ranger since the death of Arathorn eight years before, with her younger son Armegil as Captain of the North and her chief deputy. She is also Warden of the Evendim Hills in her own right.

2. Arnost is the seat of the Chieftains and the Captains of the North, (who are usually father and son or brothers) a fortified villa, formerly a summer retreat for the High Kings of Arthedain.

3. The Nazgul in their stronghold of Minas Morgul for one and the Hill Men of the North for another.

4. Presumably it was by means of these Gandalf escaped the Necromancer's dungeons a hundred years before.


	14. Simple Folk

The wagons left Rivendell early one cool autumn morning. They were massive things, pulled by four horses apiece and led rather than driven. Three were loaded with cloth, thick and soft and beautifully dyed, and the fourth with boxes of preserved fruit and bottled cordials, bedrolls and other baggage. There were two Elves to each cart, armed with bow and knife, and Gilraen and Nuneth and the three children.

The whole company was dressed as country folk but Estel didn't quite see the point. "Anybody can see you're Elves after all." he told Glewellin, the chief carter, who smiled.

"That they will not. It is easy to fool the eyes of simple Men."

They went slowly, because of the carts, crossing the fords of Bruinen at noontide and following the Great Road southwest through the dense wood known as the Trollshaws. By nightfall they reached a place where the road curved very near the river and there was an Elven resting place. This was a sheltered dell overlooking low falls with a stone lined fire bed in the center of a bowl of smooth green turf, ringed by bowers woven out of living trees for sleeping in.

The children were almost overwhelmed by the excitement of being outside the Valley and a little intimidated by the open fells and dark woods. They clung close to their mother and the carts during the first day's travel. But on the second day, as the road turned westerly threading its way through forested hills, they became more venturesome. The three of them were playing tag in and around the trees alongside the road when Meleth's giggles suddenly stopped in a gulp. Estel and Amin rushed to her rescue and found her staring wide eyed up at a Ranger; tall, dark and grimfaced in his green leathers.

He looked expressionlessly at all three then inclined his head slightly to Estel. "Dunadan."

"Mother's with us." he said, rather defiantly, in response to the Ranger's unspoken disapproval. "And Nuneth, and Elves too!"

"We're going to the fair in Hoarwelling." Meleth added.

"Are you indeed." he looked past them to see the first of the carts coming abreast of where they stood, gestured for the children to proceed him and followed them onto the road. Mother started at the sight of him then, to the children's surprise, blushed deeply.

"Gilraen," he said, "there is war beneath the Mountains and in Wilderland beyond, with Stone Trolls ranging as far west as the Lone Lands and you choose this time to take the Heir of Isildur to a fair?"

The blush faded leaving Mother a little pale and distinctly defiant. "The Angle is safe. Or should be if the Warden's Rangers are doing their duty!"

"We are and it is as safe as we can make it," he replied evenly, "but none of us, even the Warden himself, would deny there is always risk this near the Mountains."

"You know as well as I that my son will never be entirely safe anywhere." Gilraen replied quietly. "Would you make a prisoner of him, then?"

The Ranger sighed, defeated. "I am Bregolas son of Berengar, at your service Lady, and yours Dunadan."

Nuneth welcomed this new companion wholeheartedly. The Elves too showed traces of relief. Armed and willing they were but not warriors, all those had gone over the Mountains to Elrond. The children were inclined to keep their distance at first, but warmed after Bregolas carved them three wooden whistles and taught them to play simple tunes.

An hour or two after noon they turned off the Great Road onto a rutted cart track heading due south which they followed until sunset. That night they camped in a clearing beside the track. The children were put to bed on soft bales of cloth in one of the four carts formed into a circle round their fire. And Bregolas and the Elven carters kept watch in turns all night long.

As they continued southward the next day they began to pass rough homesteads with log houses and small fields hemmed in by woods, and to meet other travelers on the road. First three Men each leading a string of pack ponies loaded with bundles of cut wood. Then a homesteader in faded brown clothes with his wife riding pillion behind him on an stocky, undistinguished horse. A boy driving a small cart with an older Woman knitting placidly on the seat beside him. And another Woman and her bevy of daughters, laughing and talking as they trudged along with packs on their backs, escorted by a pair of young Men who seemed unable to get a word in edgewise.

The children stared fascinated. Hitherto the only Men they'd seen were their own kind, tall and lean, dark of hair and light of eye with chiseled features and long, elegant hands, or the Men of Rhudaur, no less tall but broader built with swarthy skins, sharp black eyes and heavy beards. The country folk of the Angle were completely different; shorter and stockier with brown hair and ruddy cheeks. They had frank, open faces and a cheerful, chatty way with them that was about as far from the habitual reserved courtesy of Elves or Dunedain as it was possible to get.

They eyed Bregolas slightly askance but seemed to see nothing unusual about the rest of the party. The Woman afoot struck up a conversation with Gilraen and the children listened in astonishment as their mother, speaking easily in a countrified accent, named herself Gilly Weaver and explained she and her Aunt Nan were taking her children to the fair as a special treat.

"Ah yes, my girls never miss it." Mrs. Cobhold answered and twinkled down at Estel. "Looking forward to your first fair, eh young man?"

"Yes, ma'am." he stammered, considerably taken aback. He'd been taught to make conversation with Princes of Elves and Dwarves, but a common farmwife was beyond his experience. Fortunately she didn't take it amiss.

"There, there, my boy." she patted him on the head with a smile at Gilraen. "A bit shy, eh?"

"A bit." Mother conceded.

"But not as shy as this pretty little miss." Mrs. Cobhold beamed at Meleth, clutching nervously at Gilraen's skirts. "What's your name then, sweeting?"

She looked frantically up at her mother for help as clearly none of her Elvish names would do at all.

"We call her Melly." Gilraen answered for her. "Say how d'do to Mrs. Cobhold, dear."

"How d' do." Meleth echoed, trying to imitate her mother's accent.

The Woman laughed kindly. "Not used to strangers are they?"

"Not at all." Gilraen said honestly.

Mrs. Cobhold turned her attention to Glewellin, walking on her other side. "You should bring your children down with you more often, Lewin. Not keep them tucked away in that northern valley of yours."

He smiled easily in return. "It's a long hard trip, Alys, and our womenfolk won't allow it. Gilly, here is an exception."

"You know each other." Mother observed.

"Alys and her girls are some of our best customers." Glewellin answered, adding to Mrs. Cobhold; "I remembered that pale green Lori has her heart set on. There's a whole bolt just for her."

One of the girls, with light brown plaits and hazel eyes, squealed delightedly. "I've been saving all year." she told him. "Five coppers and a silver piece. That'll be enough won't it?"

"More than enough." Glewellin assured her.

"I don't believe it," Estel said to him later, after the Cobholds had dropped behind. "She thought you were a Man."

"As I said, it's not hard to fool the eyes of simple folk."

"You still look like an Elf to me." said Amin doubtfully.

Glewellin smiled at him. "You are not simple, my young friend. Dunedain see clearer than other Men."

Estel looked at his mother. Even in green bodice and full blue skirts she looked more like a princess from an ancient tale, with her fine features and silver fair hair, than a farmwife. "Mrs. Cobhold wasn't seeing you as you are either was she?"

"Not exactly." Gilraen admitted. "It's a simple thing, you'll learn to do it too when you're a little older."

"If Meleth is Melly what are our names, please?" Amin wanted to know.

Mother though a moment. "Amund and Errol Weaver." she decided.

"Errol." Estel repeated. It was his first name in a language of Men, it would not be the last.


	15. At the Crossroads Inn

High, heavily forested hills gave way to a gently rolling patchwork of hedgerowed fields and well kept coppices dotted with rambling thatch roofed farmhouses and small villages. The cart track became a graveled road with walkers and riders and carts and pack ponies flowing in from every branching path. The traffic was soon so heavy that the children had to be lifted up onto the lead cart to prevent them from getting lost or trampled.

Just before noon they began passing houses built alongside the road. Only a few at first, and widely spaced. Then more in close rows with lanes between them showing more houses behind. The buildings looked odd to the children's eyes, but pretty, with black timbers making patterns against white plaster walls. The larger houses had tile roofs instead of thatch, and their windows were glazed with dozens of diamond shaped panes.

Close on to two o'clock they reached their first town. The road forked, one branch heading south-west and the other due east, and there was a big cobblestone market square on the west side, bordered by little shops and more houses. And on the east side was a very large and grand building, some three stories tall and built around a central court, with a carved and painted sign swinging above the porch showing a Y shaped cross, white on green, with the words 'Crossroad Inn' above and 'Toby and Melinda Griffon' beneath.

The lead cart stopped under the sign and the children were lifted down. Gilraen took Estel's hand and Nuneth Amin and Meleth's and all five of them went up the three tall steps of the porch and through the big arched door into a wide hall smelling of baked bread, roast meat and woodsmoke. Long benches flanking a brightly burning fire on one side, and there was a tall wooden counter on the other with an open doorway beyond and a stairway winding upward at the far end.

A number of people were sitting on the benches or standing in groups talking. Mother and Nuneth led the chilren between them and through the doorway into a large room beyond. Its low raftered ceiling was upheld by wooden posts and it was full of tables, each and every one of which seemed full of Men and Women talking and eating. Still more people walked between, cup and plate in hand, looking for a place to sit, and all filled the air with a cheerful noise of voices and the clinking of cups and plates. The children just stared. The great hall of Rivendell, even at its noisiest and most crowded, was never like this!

Still holding Estel firmly by the hand Mother plunged right in, making her way, with many a murmured 'Excuse me' and 'I beg your pardon', to a half empty table against the wall. The children were sat firmly on the bench and ordered not to move, then Mother and Nuneth both vanished into the crowd.

The other end of their table was occupied by a family: A neat dark haired mother and a father with rough red hair and beard; two girls, Berya's age or older, also dark and prim; a tiny girl eating a slice of bread and sugar next to an even tinier boy pounding happily on the table with a big pewter spoon. Just across the table from the children were two red headed boys and a girl about their own ages absorbed in some kind of board game.

Suddenly the older boy looked up and saw them staring. "What are you looking at?" he demanded with a fierce frown.

"That game you're playing," Estel answered quickly, and not altogether honestly, "I've never seen it before."

Now it was the other boy's turn to stare. "You've never played Capture the Hare?"

Estel, Amin and Meleth all shook their heads. Disarmed by this astonishing ignorance the boy pushed the board to the center of the table and explained the rules. One player controlled the bright red piece, the Hare, and his opponents the dozen white pieces and that the object was to hem the Hare in so he couldn't escape but since the red piece could hop right over the white and capture them this wasn't as easy has it might seem.

The three strange children finished their game, by way of demonstration, and they'd just begun a new one pitting the older boy against Estel and Amin when Mother and Nuneth returned balancing full trays and they were forced to put the board aside. The food was as unfamiliar as everything else; brown bread and cheese, bowls of stew and mugs of cider. But the children barely noticed, being much more interested in their new friends.

The older boy's name was Oswald Attmeade and he was twelve years old. His sister was Daisy and she was ten, and his brother Dickon was eight. They, along with their mother and father, sisters and baby brother, were also on their way to the Hoarwelling fair - as was practically everybody else in the room - but as buyers not sellers.

Estel introduced himself as Errol and his sister and brother as Melly and Amund and went on to say they were from the Weaver's valley north of the Trollshaws.

Oswald was deeply impressed. "You mean you came through the forest? Did you see any Trolls?" Estel was forced to admit they had not. His new friend was most disappointed. "But the forest is supposed to be full of Trolls, and ghosts, and all kinds of monsters!"

"Oswald, that is superstitious nonsense." Mrs. Attmeade said firmly from the end of the table. "The forest is quite dangerous enough, what with outlaws and wild animals, without imagining ghosts and Trolls. You know I don't believe in such things."

Estel, whose own grandfather had been killed by Stone Trolls, opened his mouth to object, caught a stern look from Gilraen and changed what he'd been about to say. "We didn't see any Trolls, or ghosts or monsters. Sorry."

After lunch Mother, Nuneth and the children went out a back door, across the innyard and through the opposite wing to a wide green field full of carts and picketed horses and ponies, where they found the Elves drinking ale and chatting familiarly with some of other traders. Bregolas was nearby, conferring quietly with four other Rangers, who gave the children inscrutable looks as they approached, before melting silently into the crowd.

"Bregolas," Estel asked quietly, "how can anybody not believe in Trolls?"

He smiled almost imperceptibly. "You will find, Dunadan, that many of the country people do not. And they have their doubts about Goblins and Wraiths and other such things too. It means we Rangers are doing our job very well indeed."

--

NOTES:

__

Hound and Hare is based on an actual medieval board game, as no doubt many of you know.


	16. Hoarwelling


    They reached Hoarwelling at dusk, a sizeable town
    strung along the banks of the river that gave it its
    name. The fair ground was south of the town proper, a
    large close mown field bustling with merchants and
    peddlers unloading carts and pack trains and barges
    tied up at the riverbank jetties. The light from the
    clear, palely glowing sky was augmented by lanterns
    strung between the poles marking out temporary
    streets.
    A town official, distinguished by the feather in
    his cap, greeted Glewellin familiarly as Lewin,
    accepted a handful of silver and showed them to a
    spacious lot outlined by string and posts. The Elves,
    with the brisk efficiency of long practice, unloaded
    trestles and boards from the fourth cart then erected
    a large tent, striped in Lord Elrond's colors of blue
    and silver and white, over them. Then they set up the
    tables and began laying out bolts of cloth, boxes of
    fruit and bottles of cordial, helped by Mother and
    Nuneth.
    The children slipped outside and saw booths and
    tents, both large and small, going up all around them.
    The fair would open bright and early the next morning
    and nobody wanted to lose time and customers setting
    up then. Townsfolk and visitors wandered, sightseeing,
    along the lantern lit lanes between the lots, greeting
    friends and acquaintances, criticizing the goods being
    unpacked and enjoying the excitement.
    "Hello again."
    Estel turned to see Oswald Attmeade with his
    redheaded younger siblings in tow, and greeted them
    with enthusiasm. "Hello! I was hoping we'd see you
    again."
    "We didn't finish our game." Oswald reminded him.
    "But I knew we'd have no trouble finding you, no
    missing the Valley's tent."
    "Have you been to many fairs?" Meleth asked Daisy
    enviously.
    "Oh, yes. Every year as long as I can remember."
    she answered.
    "Lucky you. This is our first." said Meleth
    "And maybe last." Amin said ruefully. "The only
    reason we were allowed to come this time was because
    our Uncle and Grandmother were away."
    "They won't let us leave the Valley because the
    fells and the forest really are dangerous." Estel
    explained. "It's not polite to contradict ladies but
    your mother is wrong - Trolls are real."
    It occured to him, too late, that Oswald might take
    offense but the other boy only nodded. "I know. Once
    when Dad took us with him to buy seasoned wood from
    the Foresters one of them showed us a *huge* skull, a
    Troll's skull," his voice fell, "*and it was solid
    stone*! They turn to stone you know, if sunlight hits
    them."
    The three children had the wit to look impressed
    and Oswald was clearly pleased. He was less so after
    his Hare was quickly cornered by Estel and Amin and
    perhaps a bit disgruntled when he and his sister Daisy
    failed to trap Estel's Hare.
    Amin tactfully suggested they stop playing, on the
    excuse it was getting dark and the pieces might get
    lost, and everybody gratefully agreed. The six
    children went back inside the tent to find the Elves,
    (though of course they didn't look like Elves to
    Oswald, Daisy and Dickon) had just finished the
    unpacking.
    Glewellin opened one of the boxes of fruit and gave
    the children a piece each. "Are you going to sleep in
    the tent?" Dickon asked Estel, sucking on a candied
    plum.
    "No." Glewellin answered decisively for him. Turned
    to Gilraen "That wouldn't be fitting, or very
    comfortable for you and the children."
    "Our father's bespoken two bedrooms and a parlor at
    the River Horse," Daisy volunteered, "they may still
    have rooms to rent."
    ***********************************************
    The River Horse was a large inn between the
    fairground and the town proper, with Mrs. Attmeade
    standing on the front steps watching anxiously for her
    strays.
    "There you are at last!" she scolded. "Didn't I
    tell you to be back here before full dark?" then she
    saw Gilraen and smiled at her. "Why Mrs. Weaver, how
    nice to see you again."
    "Thank you, Mrs. Attmeade." Mother replied. "Lewin,
    our chief carter, doesn't think the children should
    sleep out on the fair ground and your daughter
    suggested we might find a room here."
    "Oh, dear." the other Woman frowned worriedly. "I
    doubt they've anything but a garret or two left by
    now."
    "I'm sure that will do very well -" Gilraen began.
    But: "No it will not!" Mrs. Attmeade contradicted
    emphatically. "You'd be sleeping next to the dregs of
    the fair up there; tramp peddlers and dice players or
    worse!" she came to a decision. "You can share our
    rooms."
    "Oh no," Mother protested. "You're very kind, Mrs.
    Attmeade but I couldn't possibly impose -" and was
    interupted again.
    "Frankly, Mrs. Weaver, you'd be doing us a favor,"
    she lowered her voice confidentially. "The price was
    *much* higher than we'd expected, if you could help us
    by adding a silver piece or two we'd be grateful."
    After much polite discussion they settled on seven
    silver pieces; two each for Mother and Nuneth and one
    for each child. "And a bargain at the price." Mother
    told Mr. Attmeade when she gave him the money. *
    He looked like he wanted to refuse but Mrs.
    Attmeade was firm. "Don't be silly, dear, Mrs. Weaver
    is quite right. And we can certainly use a bit of
    extra silver!"
    The parlor was a fair sized room, almost large
    enough for ten children and four adults, on the second
    floor of the inn with two deep windows looking out
    towards the fair ground and a door at one end opening
    onto a small bedroom with a large fourposter, and a
    second door at the other end leading to a long room
    with four white draped beds.
    Supper was served on a long trestle table with four
    chairs for the adults and three benches for the
    children. A much better meal than lunch had been with
    white bread and butter, two fat roast ducks, potatoes
    and carrots on the side, and cups of apple custard for
    desert.
    Mrs. Attmeade and the two older girls, Annie and
    Celia, talked to Mother and Nuneth about fabrics and
    dressmaking. Mr. Attmeade talked to the children,
    which proved even more difficult than making
    conversation with King Thorin as he asked questions
    that were very hard to answer without lying, such as
    whether they were learning to be weavers and what kind
    of school they went to and so forth.
    After supper Mrs. Attmeade demanded, and after some
    palaver got, an extra bed and two more sleeping
    pallets brought up. She and Mr. Attmeade shared the
    little bedroom with four year old Katryn and baby
    Wilfred, who slept in the fourposter's trundle bed.
    Mother, Nuneth, and the four girls had the large
    bedroom with Daisy and Meleth sharing the fifth bed.
    And the boys slept on pallets laid out in front of the
    parlor fire.
    "Now don't you sit up talking," Mrs. Attmeade
    ordered, before closing her bedroom door, "We must be
    up bright and early tomorrow and you've already sat up
    much to late."
    The boys obeyed her to the letter, much to their
    own surprise, dropping off almost at once exhausted by
    the varied excitements of the day.
    **********************************************
    _* It is in fact a very fair price for four nights
    lodging for five people._
    


	17. Morning of the First Day at The Fair


    The four boys were awakened at daybreak by Mrs.
    Attmeade come to stir up the fire. She ordered them to
    roll up their pallets and then into the small bedroom
    to dress.
    By the time they emerged the trestle table was up
    and spread with a hardy breakfast - which nobody
    seemed much interested in eating, appetites quite
    killed by excitement. The children, including Annie
    and Celia, kept darting to the windows, cup or scone
    clutched in one hand, to look eagerly out at the
    already lively fair ground.
    Finally Mrs. Attmeade surrendered. "Oh very well,
    get on with you. But if you're hungry later don't
    blame me!"
    "Perhaps they could take something with them."
    Mother suggested. She sliced bread and ham and packed
    it in baskets with little pots of butter and honey.
    Then gave one each to Annie, Daisy and Meleth.
    "Now remember, be back here for lunch at noon
    *sharp*." Mrs. Attmeade instructed her children, and
    handed the older girls two copper coins each and the
    younger children one apiece for spending money.
    The fair ground was, in its way, as colorful a
    spectacle as the hosting of Rivendell but much
    noisier. Angle farmers displayed their produce in
    market stalls side by side with local craftsmen
    offering their wares in wooden booths or brightly
    colored tents. But there were also traders from Bree,
    Men and Hobbits both, dealing in Shire pipeweed,
    painted woodenware and pewterware and other goods.
    Blue Mountain Dwarves selling ironmongery, bronzework
    and ornaments of gold and silver. And short, swart Men
    from the south offering honey and meade, wool and
    hides, wine and fine glassware.
    Crowds of buyers moved slowly between the booths
    inspecting the goods, bargaining and gossiping: Brown
    haired Men of Eriador, dark Dunlendings, heavily
    bearded Dwarves and curly headed Hobbits. And here and
    there a Ranger; tall, dark and grim with pale,
    piercing eyes. Neither buying nor selling, but
    watching and listening carefully the news and gossip.
    It was all a bit overwhelming to chidren used to
    the serenity of Rivendell. They clung close to Mother
    and Nuneth as they wove their way between the early
    morning shoppers to the Valley tent, towering above
    its neighbors. The blue and silver streamers tipping
    its poles fluttering in the morning breeze. And the
    Attmeade children, though not in the least
    overwhelmed, followed along too.
    Celia and Annie promptly joined a huddle of other
    girls oohing and aahing over the the selection of
    silks and gauzes, velvets and brocades. There were
    also a number of older Women fingering the more
    practical woolens and linens, including Mrs. Cobbold.
    Her daughter Lori, bright pink with excitement,
    watched as Glewellin wrapped a bolt of finespun wool
    the color of new beech leaves in a length of
    unbleached linen and offered him a handful of coins in
    return. He took the silver piece and two of the
    coppers then closed her hand over the remaining three.
    "Something left to buy yourself a pretty gaud to go
    with your new dress." he smiled.
    Lori danced happily away clutching her treasure,
    and her mother caught Glewellin's eye shaking her head
    in mock reproach.
    "Now, Alys," he protested, "surely you wouldn't
    have me leave the poor child without a copper to spend
    for all the rest of the fair?"
    She turned to Gilraen. "And how much does that soft
    heart of his lose you in profits, I wonder?"
    "Not enough to matter I'm sure." Mother answered.
    "Indeed not." Glewellin twinkled at them both. "I
    make up for any such small losses by asking a bit more
    from the large dealers who can well afford it!"
    Oswald, Daisy and Dickon made straight for the
    boxes of candied fruit, conferring in hissing whispers
    for some minutes before Dickon finally handed his coin
    over to an Elf and tucked the box under his arm.
    Then the three of them headed for the door.
    "Coming?" Oswald asked Estel.
    "Yes." he decided.
    "Wait!" Glewellin took three copper coins from the
    money box and distributed them to the children, "can't
    really enjoy the fair without a bit of spending
    money."
    The children looked uncertainly at the coins in
    their hands, having never used or so much as seen
    money before. Thanked him dutifully and followed the
    young Attmeades out into the cheerful hurley-burley of
    the fair ground.
    


	18. The First Day's Shopping


    It seemed merchants and traders customarily set up
    in the same spot, or near it, every year so Oswald,
    Daisy and Dickon, experienced fairgoers that they
    were, knew exactly where to find everything they
    wanted to see. Estel, Amin and Meleth bewildered and
    even a little frightened by the noise and press of people
    were glad to follow their lead.
    The first stop was a tent-top like the Elves' but
    smaller and bright orange in color. The tables
    underneath it were spread with a wide variety of toys.
    There were wax dolls some small as your hand and
    others as long as your forearm. The smaller ones were
    cast from a mold with faces and clothes painted on but
    the larger and more elaborate had moveable arms, yarn
    hair and glass eyes, and were dressed in colorful
    cloth costumes. Most wore the full skirts and laced
    bodices of countrywomen but a few had long gowns of
    blue or crimson with tiny necklaces, bracelets and
    circlets of brass or tin.
    There were also ranks of little men cast in
    brightly painted lead-tin, on foot or on horseback
    wearing countrymen's breeches and jackets. And larger
    more elaborate figures of craftsmen at their
    workbenches whose arms and heads moved if you pulled a
    string. And there were long, thin figures in green
    clothes with little bows over their shoulders and
    swords at their sides clearly meant to be Rangers.
    Not to mention wooden puppets on sticks, carts and
    wagons with horses to draw them, animal figures in
    wood or china. Doll houses and doll sized furniture,
    dishes and tools. Tops and balls and skittles and
    hoops and anything else you could think of.
    The toys were crude and garish compared to Elf made
    playthings but had the charm of novelty. Meleth's
    dolls were of ivory with silken hair and crystal eyes
    and real jewelry of gold or silver set with tiny gems,
    not plump wax figures with red painted cheeks and
    braided brown wool hair. Her brothers had literal
    armies of small metal warriors, footmen and horsemen
    each with his own individual armour and weapons, but
    no farmers or craftsmen, nor Rangers either.
    Estel picked up one of the little figures. It was
    odd when you thought about it, he would be Chief of
    the Rangers someday but all his toy soldiers were
    modelled on the Elves and Men of the Elder Days.
    "Are you going to buy that?" Oswald asked.
    "I don't know," Estel showed him the copper coin,
    "will this be enough?"
    The other boy gave him a look of disbelief. "You
    can get at least four for that!"
    So he did. Four was the usual number of a Ranger
    patrol anyway. And Oswald bought a handful of round
    polished stones.
    "You act like you've never had any money to spend
    before." Oswald told him as they walked away, each
    clutching a little hemp bag.
    "We haven't," Amin piped up, seeing his brother was
    at a loss, "we don't use it in the valley."
    Oswald shook his head. "Funny place you live."
    "When was the last time *we* used money at home,
    smarty?" Daisy asked sharply. "Don't be rude, Oswald."
    "And don't you start talking like Celia!" her
    brother snapped back, adding apologetically to Estel:
    "I didn't mean to be rude, I was just surprised."
    "That's all right." Estel assured him. "Fact is we
    think the Angle's a pretty odd place, so it stands to
    reason you'd find our valley just as peculiar." Little
    did Oswald know how peculiar!
    Their next stop was one of the Dwarven booths,
    manned by three stocky Firebeards 1* from the Blue
    Mountains. Part of their stock was a selection of
    folding knives, some with several different blades for
    specialized uses, 2* that fascinated all six children
    but were much to expensive to buy.
    Eventually the Dwarves began to show signs of
    annoyance as the children lingered, fingering the
    knives and getting in the way of other customers, so
    Amin bought a small brass box with a lock and a key
    worked in intricate curlicues to mollify them, and the
    children moved on.
    To a smaller booth with broaches, pins, necklaces,
    pendants and buckles of copper or silver or gilt
    inlaid with enamel or nacre or colored glass displayed
    on a dark felt spread over the counter. The Attmeades
    greeted the jeweler, a round little man with greying
    hair and bright brown eyes, like an old friend.
    "Bertred's been *everywhere*," Oswald told the
    children from Rivendell proudly, "over the Mountains
    and even to the South Kingdom."
    That would be Gondor, and explained why the jeweler
    was looking at them with such startled attention. He
    would have seen Dunedain in the south and doubtless
    recognized Estel, Amin and Meleth as being of the same
    kind.
    "Errol, Amund and Melly are from the Weavers'
    Valley," Oswald continued blithely, "have you ever
    been there, Bertred?"
    "No, I can't say that I have."
    "Come to think of it," Oswald mused, "I don't think
    I've ever met anybody, other than Lewin and his
    carters, who've seen the valley."
    "We're very hard to find and don't get many
    visitors." Estel said quickly, and almost honestly.
    In the meantime Meleth and Daisy were busily
    examining the jewelry, which was quite unlike the
    Elvish work the former was accustomed to. A few pieces
    had a Numenorean flavor but most were in an unfamiliar
    style all interlacing serpentine filigree or intricate
    cellwork inlaid with colored glass or enamel. 3*
    A small broach in the shape of a running horse in
    copper cellwork and deep red glass took Meleth's fancy
    and Daisy, after much thought, bought a string of
    blue and yellow glass beads. By the time she'd finally
    made up her mind the sun was directly overhead and it
    was time to go back to the Inn for lunch.
    *********************************************
    _1. Firebeards is one of the Seven tribes of Dwarves,
    (Durin's Folk are the Longbeards). Nogrod, the great
    Dwarf city of the Southern Ered Luin, was their
    ancestral home. It stood about where the Gulf of Lune
    is in the Third Age, destroyed in the sinking of
    Beleriand. But their lesser dwellings and mines
    further south survived and their people still live in
    the southern range of the Blue Mountains. As their
    tribe name suggests they are usually red bearded.
    (Mostly Canon)
    2. Bet you never knew the so-called 'swiss army knife'
    was actually invented by Dwarves! ;) (Decidedly *not*
    Canon!)
    3. Most of Bertred's stock in trade is made in the
    styles and techniques of the Northmen, (think Viking
    and Saxon jewelry), he comes from one of the Mannish
    settlments along the Anduin, (later united by Beorn
    and his son) and like most of the Men of the Anduin
    vale has Northmen blood mixed with that of the dark
    haired and swarthy skinned Men who've lived east of
    the Mountains since the Elder Days. (Fanon)_
    


End file.
